Mirror, Mirror
by BlackHawk13
Summary: What happens when Ron Weasley find himself in a parallel universe where Harry Potter became a Slytherin? Set in 5th year circa Order of the Phoenix .
1. Through the Looking Glass

**AUTHOR'S NOTES: **"Mirror, Mirror, on the wall, who's the fairest of them all?" "It sure as hell ain't _you_, 'Hawk!!" Heh! You'd think with a name like **_Mirror, Mirror_**, this story would be some sort of amalgamation of Harry Potter and the Snow White fairy tale...where the young princess (played by Hermione) runs off into the woods to escape a wicked step-mother (ever notice how there were never any wicked step-_FATHERS_?) and finds a house in which dwell the Seven Gingers (Arthur and Molly had to've had seven children for a reason, and I think this might just be it!). As interesting as that story might be, this story ain't it! This story, as anyone who's been paying attention to my profile page (and shame on you if you haven't) will know, was inspired by an episode of _STAR TREK_.

On October 6, 1967, episode #33 of _STAR TREK_ aired for the very first time; it was an episode that would debut the concept of the Mirror universe...a concept which has been re-used by the STAR TREK franchise on several occasions and has even wormed its way into other facets of pop culture. In that episode, four members of the crew of the _USS Enterprise_ end up in a parallel universe as a result of a transporter accident while returning to the ship from an away mission; an ion storm caused the transporter to create a rip in space which swapped the four crewmembers of the normal universe with four crewmembers of the evil Mirror universe. The four crewmembers had to find a way back home while avoiding assassination by junior officers hoping to advance in rank, dealing with the suspicions of a bearded Spock, and of course, taking time out for Captain Kirk to nail a hot female crewperson. You gotta wonder...with the superchagred libido of normal universe Kirk, Mirror universe Kirk should've been a puritanical celibate...but I think he was an even bigger horndog than the Kirk we're used to. A very scary thought.

I can hear you all out there now..."Uncle BlackHawk, what's this got to do with Harry Potter?! Is this a HP/ST cross-over?!!" In a word? No. The concept of the parallel universe is what we're dealing with here, and the title was merely borrowed in an attempt for near-instant recognition. You have to understand...I'm a geek; I run with a geek-crowd. The term "Mirror Mirror" is like a household word with my people, so a story with said title would immediately summon up images of evil parallel universes and bearded Spocks. Okay, so, the bearded Spock isn't something I want you to relate with my story, but you're getting the point, right?!

I feel like I'm rambling, here. Crap. Am I rambling? Anybody??? It's been almost a month since I've posted anything...I think I'm getting rusty on how to write an engaging Author's Note. Hrmm...hard to believe it's been a month!

I think it needs to be stated that this story is in no way related to my last multi-chapter fic, **_Aftermath_**; this story is set in the Trio's Fifth Year (circa _ORDER OF THE PHOENIX_), however, it cannot be said that it is canonical. You'll see that by the end of the chapter, I've fairly gone off the reservation and am dipping my feet into the pool (gotta love mixed metaphors) of Alternate Universe (AU) fiction. Many of you don't like AU fiction, and for those who don't, I'm sorry. One day I will write a multi-chaptered follow-up to **_Aftermath_** that could fit easily into established continuity, but right now, this story is what's knocking around in my head.

In fact, it's been knocking around in there so hard, I haven't been able to concentrate on anything else! I would like to apologize to anybody who's spent this last month waiting for me to post one of many one-shots I've been working on. I have about a half-dozen or so one-shot stories in various stages of incompletion, but I haven't been able to work on them since before New Year's, since this story has consumed all my creative thoughts. I hope to produce a one-shot story for Valentine's Day, but as yet I don't have a plot in mind and without a plot, any story I would write would just be a few thousand words of mindless dialogue...and, really, who would want to read THAT?! So, if anyone's got any good ideas for a Valentine's Day plot, feel free to let me know!

As I said above, this story will be hopping the line into AU fiction, and as such, the characters may seem OUT-of-character. Let me asure you, that is PURELY intentional. These characters will not seem entirely like the characters you're familiar with because they are NOT the characters you're familiar with...with the exception of this first chapter. The Ron and Hermione and Mr. Weasley are, indeed, the characters you've known since you've been reading HARRY POTTER, so if I've screwed them up, feel free to let me know!

**DISCLAIMER: **Normal-universe HARRY POTTER characters are the property of J.K. Rowling; Mirror-universe HARRY POTTER characters are the property of bearded Mirror-universe J.K. Rowling...but she doesn't know I'm using them, so SHHHHH!!!!

**GRATUITOUS SHOUT-OUT: **Thanks ever so much to my Beta Reader, **CutewithAcapital-Q** for checking things out ahead of time and giving them her stamp of approval. (So, really, any fault you find with the story is really on HER shoulders, not mine!!) :-p

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_**MIRROR, MIRROR**_

**Chapter 1  
"Through the Looking Glass"**

The last month of the summer holiday had not turned out very well for Ronald Weasley. It all seemed to start with Harry Potter's arrival at Number 12 Grimauld Place, the secret headquarters of the even _more_ secret Order of the Phoenix.

At first, it was Harry's anger at him and Hermione for their lack of letter-writing over the summer, despite the fact that they were under strict orders from Dumbledore to keep Harry in the dark. Things had snowballed from there.

Harry was put on trial by the entire Wizengamot for casting the _Patronus_ charm in front of his cousin Dudley, thereby violating the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery (casting a spell beneath the age of seventeen) and the International Statute of Secrecy (casting a spell in front of a Muggle).

Of course, Harry got off without even so much as a slap on the wrist. Not surprising, really; Harry was always getting away with things like that. Like when he caused his uncle's sister to inflate and go floating off into the night sky over Little Whinging; the Minister of Magic himself assured Harry that he wasn't in trouble for that one.

It always appeared to be those _around_ Harry who took the heat while Harry was almost untouchable. That was great news for _Harry_, but it usually meant lots of pain for the people he surrounded himself with. It was also the reason Harry and the Weasley children were arriving at King's Cross Station separately and under protection from members of the Order.

Of course, dealing with Harry's problems wasn't the extent of Ron's bad time for the last month. He, Ron, had made prefect, and no one…not Harry, or Hermione, or his siblings, or even his own mother…seemed to think he deserved it. Everyone just assumed it would be Harry.

Ron was used to the lack of faith from his mother, and he really didn't care what the twins and Ginny thought. The jealous look Harry had given him had made him uncomfortable, but it was Hermione that made him feel the worst – assuming the badge was Harry's and fawning all over him and then the way she stumbled over herself to try and congratulate _him_ when the truth came out…that really hurt.

Ron had always thought of himself as not good enough and complete rubbish at everything. Getting the prefect badge showed Ron that everyone else around him thought the same thing about him.

And if that wasn't bad enough, Hermione had gotten another letter from "Bulgarian international Quidditch prodigy" Viktor Krum…Ron's former idol…the man who had swooped in and taken Hermione from him…not that he'd ever had her in the first place. This, of course, led to a row between Ron and Hermione.

"I just don't understand why you keep writing to that grouchy old git, 'Mione," Ron grumbled as he, Hermione, and Mr. Weasley made their way through King's Cross Station towards the barrier leading to Platform 9¾. Harry had already gone through the barrier, Ron and Hermione were next, and Ginny and the twins were close on their heels. All three groups of students were guarded by different members of the Order.

"And I don't understand what business it is of yours to whom I write, _Ronald_!" Hermione shot back, "And stop calling me _''Mione'_!"

"Then you stop calling _me_ 'Ronald'!" he bellowed, sounding childish.

"'Ronald' is in fact your _name_, Ronald," she hissed in response, her nose in the air in a very haughty manner, "Whereas 'Mione' is just you being too _lazy_ to _say_ my actual name!"

"I'm not lazy!" Ron shot back angrily, drawing looks from passersby as they moved towards the barrier.

"Oh, really?" Hermione scoffed, "Who was it, then, who wanted a lie-in this morning instead of getting up _early_ like the rest of us? If we're late, it's _your_ fault!"

"I was knackered! I couldn't sleep last night," Ron wasn't about to tell her he couldn't sleep because he was thinking about _her_ and his recently acknowledged feelings for her all night, "Why are you always nagging me? You're supposed to be my friend!"

"I _am_ your friend!" Hermione yelled, stopping in her tracks to turn and look at him. She would never admit it to Ron, but his suggestion that she wasn't his friend hurt her feelings worse than almost anything else he'd ever said to her.

"Ha!" Ron scoffed, laughing in Hermione's face. He was letting his temper get the better of him, but he couldn't help himself, "If you were _really_ my friend, you'd stop nagging me all the time…_and_ you wouldn't get mad at me for calling you ''Mione'!"

"Well, if that's your definition of friendship, Ronald," she said, her voice cold, "Perhaps we _aren't_ friends after all!"

"What? How can you…?"

"It's not as though we _behave_ like friends, Ronald."

"Sure we do, we…"

"I'm starting to think the _only_ reason you and I even associate with one another is our mutual friendship with Harry."

"But…"

"I seriously doubt that you and I would even speak to each other if we weren't both friends with Harry."

"You're wrong," Ron said flatly. There was a flash of anger in his blue eyes mixed together with a glint of hurt, "You and I _are_ friends, 'Mi--…Hermione…with or without Harry."

"If you truly are my friend, Ronald," Hermione replied, "Then you shouldn't have a problem with me corresponding with Viktor."

"I don't understand what you see in him," he said, grimacing at the thought of Hermione and Viktor-bloody-Krum together, "He can't even say your name right! _'Herm-o-ninny'_…what the Hell is _that_?!"

"At least he _tries_ to say it right!" she snapped, "You seem to think it's funny to keep calling me a name that I hate!! And as long as you refuse to drop the subject of Viktor Krum, let me tell you this: he's a _much_ better friend than _you've_ ever been!"

"How can you _say_ that?!" Ron exclaimed, hurt and angered by Hermione's claim, "He doesn't even _know_ you!"

"He knows me better than _you_ do!" Hermione retorted, "Viktor actually _listens_ when I talk to him."

"Yeah, but I bet that pumpkin-head only understands about a third of the words you use," Ron snorted.

"He's smarter than _you_ are, Ronald Weasley!" Hermione rounded on him viciously at his comment about Viktor's intelligence, "_And_ he actually respects me! You won't hear Viktor Krum telling me with whom I can or can't be friends!"

"I respect you…" Ron replied, lamely.

"HA!!" Hermione scoffed.

"I do!" he insisted. Ron really did respect and admire Hermione; he just had the uncanny ability to put his foot in his mouth most of the time he was speaking to her.

"If you respected me, Ronald," she went on, refusing to give any ground to Ron now that he'd made her mad, "Not only would you stop trying to control who I'm friends with, but you'd also listen to me when I tell you things that are for your own good!"

"You mean _nag_?" he sneered. Okay, yes Ron respected and admired Hermione, and had even developed some deep emotions concerning her…_but_ he was still much too willing to let his temper get the better of him…which is what was happening now.

"I…do not…_NAG_!!" she shouted, jabbing him in the chest with her finger as she spoke.

"You're _constantly_ nagging me…and Harry," Ron countered with a cruel smile on his face, "Every time we want to have a little fun, there you are going on about homework assignments and rule-breaking!"

"If it weren't for me and my 'nagging'," Hermione replied, her voice quavering a slight bit, either from hurt or from anger, "You and Harry would never _do_ homework! And all that rule-breaking is bound to get you…_and_ Harry…expelled one of these days! And with you being a prefect now, if you continue to break rules, you're going to lose your badge!"

"What difference does _that_ make?" Ron shouted, "You didn't think I deserved the bloody badge in the first place!"

"What…?" she tried to sound confused by his statement, but she blushed in embarrassment, knowing exactly what he was talking about.

"You heard me," he said flatly. He was hurt and angry at the reaction he got from his friends and family when it was revealed that he was the one selected to be the new Gryffindor boys' prefect, instead of Harry, "The way you were cooing all over Harry when you thought it was his…the whole bloody lot of you think it should've been Harry. None of you think I deserve it; none of you think I'm worthy…"

"No…I never said…" Hermione could see the hurt look on Ron's face and it made her feel horrible. She was embarrassed and disappointed in herself and everyone else who had been in Ron's bedroom when he received the badge; everyone had made him feel so bad…even Mrs. Weasley couldn't believe that it had been Ron who had been chosen. Though she, at least, had been thrilled for him once she realized it was true. His two best friends, however, could barely conjure up enough sincerity to congratulate him convincingly, and she knew that _that _had shattered his highly fragile sense of self-worth.

"If you'll excuse me," Ron said in that same flat tone; the one that said his feelings were too hurt to continue vehemently arguing with Hermione, "I need to use the loo."

"Ron, we really need to stick together," Mr. Weasley said. He had kept quiet during Ron and Hermione's argument because he knew better than to get involved. The two of them had gotten into enough of these arguments over the summer that they'd become infamous during their brief time at Grimauld Place, and anyone trying to get in the middle of it only made things worse. Better to let them have a go at each other until the row came to its eventual, inevitable conclusion. They never seemed to stay mad at each other for very long…for reasons that seemed to escape no one, save the two people involved in all these many arguments. Now, though, with Ron looking to wander off into a Muggle-filled train station, Arthur saw fit to intervene, "For safety's sake, we need to remain together."

"Don't worry about it, Dad," Ron said, waving a hand dismissively at his father as he continued on towards the signpost marking the restrooms, his voice was cold and flat and his eyes were full of pain, "I'll only be a few minutes…and it's not like a Death Eater would waste his time on me. Even my friends think I'm bloody worthless."

"Ronald…Ron!" Hermione called, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes. An angry Ron, she could deal with, but a hurt Ron was more than she could handle, "The train, Ron…!"

"Come along now, Hermione," Mr. Weasley said, taking hold of Ron's luggage trolley and ushering the girl along towards the barrier, "Ron will be fine. Once we've gotten you squared away, I'll come back for him."

Once inside the Muggle restroom, the toilet stalls were all occupied, and Ron had to wait briefly before being able to use one of the urinals. A busy train station at this time of day meant a lot of people getting on and off trains, and ultimately that meant a lot of people needing to use the loo.

When he finished at the urinal, Ron stood at the sink, slowly washing his hands and gazing into the mirror; silently despising the image that looked back at him. He had never had the greatest amount of self-esteem, but right now what little he did have was gone.

He would always ever just be one of two things: just another Weasley, or just Harry Potter's sidekick. The worst part was he wasn't even the best of either of _those_. Hermione was the smart one…she was bloody brilliant…a genius…and if you're going to pick someone for a sidekick, you'd want to pick the one who knew just about everything about everything. And among Weasleys, he was practically nothing.

Bill was the handsome one, as well as the cool one, and with his job as Curse Breaker, he was tied with Charlie for being the adventurous one and the one with the coolest job (although Charlie may've edged him out just slightly on the job front…live dragons beat dead mummies any day). Percy was the smart one (although Bill had been Head Boy, too, and had gotten just as many O.W.L.s as Percy, so there Bill was again…the bastard). Fred and George were the funny ones and they were twins, which also set them apart. Ginny was the baby and the only girl, which, in a family where the last girl to be born happened generations ago, meant she may as well have been some sort of bloody Messiah.

Ron was just…_Ron_. There was absolutely nothing special about him. He was tall, sure, but then so were his Dad, Bill, and Percy…although if he kept growing, he would probably be taller than all of them, Bill included. He had blue eyes…again, just like Dad, Bill, and Percy. Freckles like the rest of the family, though, thankfully, not nearly as many as Charlie…he looked practically _tan_ he had so many!

He had red hair, again, just like everyone else in the family; even both his parents were redheads. How did _that_ happen? Did that mean he should start looking at redheaded girls and ignoring his feelings towards Hermione? Should he give Susan Bones the Hufflepuff a go instead of pining away for a girl so clearly out of his league as Hermione? Maybe it was best if he just put Hermione out of his mind for now…he felt bad enough as it is.

He continued to gaze into the mirror and couldn't help noticing the one part of his face that seemed uniquely his: his long nose. His mother always told him that one day he would grow into it…just as his Dad, Bill, and Percy had grown into theirs. Of course, Ron couldn't see it…he couldn't see himself growing _that_ much! Everyone made fun of his nose when he was little…especially the twins, but they made fun of everything about him. It almost seemed as if his only reason for being born was for the twins to have someone to pick on, and no matter how much he begged and pleaded for them to stop, they'd just keep going, getting progressively crueler as they went on.

Then, of course, was the fact that nearly everything he owned was a hand-me-down. Draco Malfoy had once joked that the Weasleys had more children than they could afford, and while it made Ron see red and jump to his feet ready to fight the albino ferret, it didn't make it any less true. One quick look at himself in his hand-knitted Weasley jumper from last Christmas…which he'd already grown out of, it appeared…spoke volumes. And once he put on his school uniform it would be even worse.

School robes were to be black; his were so old and faded, it had been many years since the shade they were could be considered black. His were, at this point, more a very dark, dull grey…and they were too short. His school jumper wasn't much better, with the nattiness of the sleeves and hem. He knew his parents were doing their best, and his father's recent promotion helped considerably; but being a teenager meant wanting to fit in…to be like everyone else…and Ron Weasley definitely did not look like everyone else.

Feeling even worse about himself than he had when he entered the loo, Ron decided to concentrate on something other than his physical appearance, which on second thought was probably not the best idea. He was stupid, he was lazy, he was quick-tempered yet dull-witted, and he had deplorable table manners…what other horrible things had Hermione said about him? Oh, right, he didn't respect his friends…he was mean, cruel, he'd never be an international Quidditch star…and the only reason Hermione associated with him was because he was friends with Harry.

"Bloody Hell…" he said softly to the sad-eyed image in the mirror, his voice breaking slightly. Hermione really did think that, didn't she? He was just her acquaintance…an annoying hanger-on who she had to tolerate to spend time with her friend, Harry. He was nothing…less than nothing to her, probably. It would certainly explain why no one believed he should be a prefect.

Ron reached into his trouser pocket and pulled out the shiny, gold and scarlet badge. Hermione thought it should be Harry's; she was so excited at the prospect of being a prefect with him. Learning that it _wasn't_ Harry sure put a damper on her good mood in a hurry.

(**Author's Note****:** The following flashback is courtesy of _**Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix**_, pp. 162-163.)

_The door banged open. Hermione came tearing into the room, her cheeks flushed and her hair flying. There was an envelope in her hand._

_"Did you – did you get –?"_

_She spotted the badge in Harry's hand and let out a shriek._

_"I knew it!" she said, excitedly brandishing her letter. "Me too, Harry, me too!"_

_"No," said Harry quickly, pushing the badge back into Ron's hand. "It's Ron, not me."_

_"It – what?"_

_"Ron's prefect, not me," Harry said._

"Ron?"_ said Hermione, her jaw dropping. "But…are you sure? I mean –"_

_She turned red as Ron looked around at her with a defiant expression on his face._

_"It's my name on the letter," he said._

_"I…" said Hermione, looking thoroughly bewildered, "I…well…wow! Well done, Ron! That's really –"_

_"Unexpected," said George, nodding._

_"No," said Hermione, blushing harder than ever, "No it's not…Ron's done loads of…he's really…"_

She couldn't think of one decent thing to say about him to save her life, and her bumbling, fumbling attempts just made things worse. Hermione was thrilled beyond belief at the prospect of being a Gryffindor prefect alongside Harry, but the thought of being a prefect with _him_ left her shocked and embarrassed.

And if she couldn't see any redeeming qualities in him that would make someone select him as a prefect, Ron knew there was no way in Hell that she would see anything in him worth feeling about _him_ the way _he_ felt about _her_.

"Hopeless," he muttered to his reflection, his look of sadness quickly being replaced by anger. Not at Hermione, but at himself. "Completely hopeless and utterly worthless! That's all you're ever going to be…"

All Ron wanted was to be recognized for _something_, but if not even his friends and family thought he was worth anything, what could he really expect to ever accomplish that would be worthwhile? Surely he was doomed to a life of failure and obscurity while all those around him went on to lives of greatness.

Ron happened to glance down at his watch and cursed to himself; it was very nearly time for the train to leave. Turning his back on his image in the mirror, Ron rushed from the restroom and began hurrying towards the barrier between Platforms 9 and 10; the Hogwarts Express would be leaving in less than two minutes. Everyone else had no doubt already gone through; thanks to his trip to the lavatory, Ron was running late.

Later than usual, actually. The Weasley family was always rushing to catch the Hogwarts Express with only minutes to spare, so this time was really no exception. Of course, while everyone else was already through the barrier, Ron was in the loo, recovering from another argument with Hermione, and having to wait his turn behind a bunch of Muggles. Now, he was nearly late for the train that would be taking him to his Fifth Year at Hogwarts.

"Dad's probably yanked out what's left of his hair by now, and Mum must be having kittens," Ron groaned as he hurtled towards the barrier between Platforms 9 and 10; at least his trunk and Hogwarts supplies had been taken through by his father, so he wouldn't have to spend any time getting his luggage aboard. He caught sight of a familiar face as they ran quickly through the barrier ahead of him. "Great, even Neville Longbottom's getting there before me!"

Lowering his head and moving faster, Ron raced headlong through the barrier between the platforms. Darkness engulfed him for the briefest of instants, and then there was a feeling of being turned inside out and dragged backwards through his navel…similar to the Portkey he'd used to get to the Quidditch World Cup last year, but tinglier. Ron had never felt that way any of the other times he passed through the barrier.

Ron had expected the split second of blackness to fade to the wizarding train platform that was so familiar to him, but that split second stretched on into a whole second…then a minute…then what seemed an hour, a day, a week, a month, a year, an eternity! Blackness was suddenly the only thing he knew…until, quite suddenly, it wasn't blackness any more.

Ron awoke in his four-poster bed at Hogwarts, groaning as he got up for the very first day of class. He'd apparently been dreaming about running late for the Hogwarts Express. _"Could've been worse,"_ he thought, _"It could've been one of those inappropriate dreams about Hermione, and I could've woken up calling her name…again."_

_Inappropriate_ dreams about his best friend, Hermione Granger, were becoming a regular occurrence for Ronald Weasley, and on more than one occasion, he'd awakened in his bedroom at the Burrow with his best friend's name on his lips. Luckily, none of those occasions had been when his other best friend (the one he _didn't_ dream about snogging), Harry Potter, had been visiting and sharing his bedroom.

Thinking about Hermione reminded Ron of the argument they'd had prior to leaving for Hogwarts. He couldn't remember them making up; nor could he remember the trip onboard the Hogwarts Express, the Sorting ceremony, the Welcoming Feast, _or_ the first night back in his bed at Hogwarts. The stress of arguing with Hermione must have gotten to him.

"She probably won't speak to me anyway," Ron muttered as he threw back his covers. His Fifth Year at Hogwarts was already starting off in the tank. He hoped it couldn't get any worse, but really he feared it wouldn't get any better.

Ron got up and couldn't help noticing, through groggy eyes, that no one else was in the dormitory.

"Thanks for waking me, Harry," Ron grumbled to his absent best friend. Usually, whichever one of them woke first made sure the other was up, but this time, Harry left Ron to his own devices, "_He's_ probably still sore at me for getting the prefect's badge."

Ron made his way into the boys' lavatory and got himself ready for the first day of class. He made his way down to the Gryffindor common room, still too groggy from sleep to notice two important facts. It was dark outside, and there were only four beds in boys' dorm.

**-- End Chapter 1 --**

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**AUTHOR'S END NOTES:** Well, there you have it. The first chapter in my new on-going, multi-chapter story. I hope you enjoyed it. And, yes, I know there weren't any Mirror-universe characters running around, but this is still just the first chapter...give it time.

Thanks for reading, and if any of you are so inclined, go ahead and review so I know what you thought.

Thanks again, and I'll see you in two weeks for Chapter 2!


	2. A Mirror, Darkly

**AUTHOR'S NOTES: **Has it _been_ two weeks already? Time flies when you're desperately trying to finish up a chapter to keep yourself ahead of the curve! Not that it matters to anybody but me and my Beta, but I just finished Chapter 4…which means I could rest on my laurels right now, and not have to worry about writing another chapter for, like, a month. Not that _that_ is gonna happen.

I mean, for one thing, I don't have any laurels on which to rest; Hell, I don't even have any hardys! (That there's a joke, people, so laugh!) Seriously, I need as much lead time as possible with this story. I may've been able to knock out a chapter in a day or two for _**Aftermath**_, but considering the content of Chapters 4 through 7, I'll be needing as much time as possible to get the chapters together and make them readable.

Have I piqued anybody's interest?! Anyone out there wondering what could be contained within _those_ four chapters that good ol' Uncle BlackHawk needs as much time as possible to write them?! Well, I could tell ya', but where would be the fun in _that_?! :-D

We're getting ahead of ourselves worrying about _those_ chapters; I mean, Chapter 4 won't even be posted until March 21 (I'm just a big ol' chapter-tease, aren't I?), so let's concern ourselves with this chapter here!

Things start to get interesting here, if I do say so myself, and for our dear Ronnikins, things start to get confusing! But, then, what would a good parallel universe story be without the initial confusion of the person who crossed over?

Of course, stuff _really_ starts to roll in Chapter 3; and then in Chapter 4…oh! And Chapter 9!! Oh. My. God!!! Chapter 9 is awesome!!! Heh!! (Show of hands…who thinks I'm bluffing and I _don't_ have Chapter 9 finished?!) BWAHAHAHAHAHAHA!! Uhm…yeah…sorry 'bout that; got in touch with my inner super-villain for a second there.

**GRATUITOUS THANKS:** As I did with _**Aftermath**_, I'm going to take the time here to thank those readers who went above-and-beyond the call of duty and actually _reviewed_ my story. I thrive on feedback, people; it's the only way for me to improve as a writer! So, for those brave souls who reviewed – **CutewithAcapital-Q**, **ObsessedRHShipper**, **kareem33**, **TiffanyM**, **MaNdErS20100**, **Alquimista**, **zsdvnn**, **allanfrontrow**, **Rosiline**, **Pattox0111**, **Avanell**, **HopelessRomantic79**, and **Cantletharrygo** – as always, thank you very much! For those of you who've been reading and reviewing me since my first fic, _**welcome back**_, and for those who are new to my writing, _**welcome aboard**_!

**OBSEQUIOUS COWTOWING:** Unlike my other stories, I've been working extensively with a Beta Reader for _**Mirror, Mirror**_. The beauty of this is that I at least know that _her_ review will be positive (provided I take all her advice and don't decide to rebel! "Whaddya mean I can't have Ron walking around in Gucci school robes?!! Continuity? Screw continuity!!!"). So, for being the wind beneath my wings, an extra special thank you goes out to **CutewithAcapital-Q**. Sure, I could do it without her, but then I wouldn't have the wonderful warm and squishy feeling I get when she says something along the lines of "You did a marvelous job…" (that's a direct quote, people…although it may or may not be taken out of context, you never know with me…she could have followed that ellipsis – the three dots, if you didn't know the proper term – with "…of royally screwing up what could have been a good story!"…she _didn't_ say that, but you never know!).

Seriously, though, no one has ever told me I've done a marvelous job at _anything_! Makes me just wanna blush and reply, "Well Shazam!" (There's a pun in there, but I'll wait to see if anybody gets it.)

Right…so…thanks, Cutie, for being my Beta on this ride!

**DISCLAIMER:** Harry Potter and all his little friends and whatnot are the property of J.K. Rowling. If _STAR TREK_ creator Gene Roddenberry is the Great Bird of the Universe, then JKR must at least be the Great Owl of the Wizarding World. (See how I brought it back around to _STAR TREK_, people?! You can't stop it…it's a juggernaut! And the new movie's in theaters May 9!)

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**_MIRROR, MIRROR_**

**Chapter 2  
****"A Mirror, Darkly"**

Ron hurried down the stairs into the common room, expecting everyone to be on their way to breakfast prior to the first day of class. He didn't expect everyone to be sitting around the room doing homework and lounging around _after_, apparently, a day of classes.

"Ron!"

Ron looked over to where Neville Longbottom was sitting at the wizard's chess set over in the corner near the window. The round-faced boy was waving him over. Ron walked over and dropped down into the seat opposite Neville.

"Nice to see you've finally rejoined the land of the living," Neville joked as he started setting up the chessboard.

Ron looked confused as he once again looked around the room, "What time is it, Neville?"

"Uhm…" Neville looked down at the watch on his wrist while Ron sat, wiping the sleep from his eyes, "Seven-thirty." Neville went back to setting up the chessmen.

"A.M. or P.M.?" Ron asked, confusedly looking out the window at the night sky.

"P.M., Ron, very P.M.," Neville looked at his best friend, concern showing on his young face, "Alright there, Ron? You don't look too good…should I get Madam Pomfrey?"

"I'm starting to think I don't feel too good, mate," Ron rubbed a hand across his forehead, "How long was I napping?"

"Napping?" Neville scoffed, "I wouldn't call what you did 'napping'."

"Call it whatever you want to," Ron grumbled "I've just never _forgotten_ an entire day of classes before. I can't believe I blacked out the entire first day of class."

"Ron?" Neville looked up at him, his eyes awash in confusion, "What are you talking about? You weren't _in_ class today."

"I wasn't?" Ron looked confused, "Why not?"

"You were in the hospital wing," Neville explained, "You mean you don't remember? At the feast, Professor McGonagall told us you'd come down with a pretty bad case of the flu on the train, and would be resting in the hospital wing for the night. Then, today, at breakfast, she came and told us you'd been moved back to the dorm, but you'd be spending the day resting and to not disturb you."

Ron leaned back in his seat, stretching his arms over his head, causing his too-short jumper to rise up over his stomach slightly. He leaned over the chessboard, moving closer to Neville, "I don't remember any of that stuff you just described, Neville." He smiled at Neville finding the whole situation rather funny. "Don't tell Harry or Hermione…no need to worry them."

"Why would I tell Hermione?" Neville asked, shooting a look across the room, "I don't think she'd care…and…who's _Harry_?"

"Right…oh, ha-ha, Neville," Ron said, smirking at what he assumed was Neville's lame attempt at a joke, "I'll play along. You know…Harry? Harry Potter? The-Boy-Who-Lived?"

"Harry Potter?!" Neville's brows furrowed, more confused now than ever, "Why would I tell _him_ anything?!"

Neville's voice was raised and drew more attention from the rest of the Gryffindors in the common room, causing Neville to blush embarrassedly at the unwelcome attention. He looked around quickly at the multitude of eyes currently on him and sunk down in his seat, turtle-like.

"Okay, Neville, talk," Ron said, casting a glance at the Gryffindors eyeing them up, "What's going on between you and Harry?"

"Me and Harry?" Neville was starting to get frustrated at the confusing words coming out of Ron's mouth, "What --…?"

Neville was interrupted as one of the other Fifth Year Gryffindors came stomping over to where they were sitting, her bushy brown hair bouncing as she walked. She drew the attention of the two friends immediately, bringing a halt to their conversation.

Neville looked up and sighed audibly. He immediately looked away, paying close attention to the world right outside the window. It was obvious from his body language that he wanted nothing to do with whatever was about to happen. Ron, however, had other plans, apparently.

The redhead looked over at the new arrival as she reached them. He started to smile at her until he noticed the angry look etched on her face. His smile immediately fell as he knew he was about to be embroiled in yet another row with Hermione Granger…obviously, she was still angry with him about their argument at King's Cross Station.

"Where's my cat, Weasley?!" she yelled, taking Ron by surprise.

"Huh—what…?" Ron was completely dumbfounded. There was something odd about Hermione's mouth, but he couldn't concentrate since she was in the process of screaming at him.

"My cat!" Hermione yelled again, "Crookshanks! He's been missing ever since the Welcoming Feast last night and we all know how much you hate him!!"

Ron's eyes widened in shock and his mouth gaped for several moments before he was able to answer, "What? 'Mi--…erm…Hermione…I wouldn't do anything to Crookshanks; I mean, yeah, I don't like him, but I wouldn't _do_ anything to him."

"That's a laugh!" Hermione snapped harshly, her eyes blazing, "You still blame him for your stupid _rat_ disappearing two years ago! Every time you see him, you try to kick him and you say that you're going to kill him!!"

"Hermione, listen to me," Ron pleaded, getting to his feet, "I may not like Crookshanks, but I wouldn't _hurt_ him…he's too important to you, and _you_ are too important to _me_!"

"You're not funny, Ronald Weasley!" Hermione yelled, tears welling up in her big brown eyes and tumbling down her cheeks, "I swear to God, if you've hurt my Crookshanks, I'll make you pay!!"

Before Ron could say anything else, Hermione turned on her heel and raced across the common room and bolted up the stairs to the girls' dormitories, tears pouring down her cheeks in twin rivers of salty sadness.

"What the Hell was _that_ about?!" Ron asked, seemingly in a daze as he sat back down. He hadn't taken his eyes off the girls' staircase since Hermione had run up them and disappeared from view. Almost absentmindedly he muttered, "Did she look different to you?"

"You didn't _really_ do anything to her cat, did you?" Neville asked, glancing back from looking out the window. He had an odd look on his face that Ron couldn't quite place, "I know the two of you don't like each other, but that would be cruel even for you."

"What are you talking about, Neville?" Ron asked, looking and sounding completely confused by the round-faced boy's statement, "Hermione and I are best friends; why would I do something to her cat, when I know how much it would hurt her?"

The odd look that Neville was giving Ron quickly transformed into an expression that seemed to imply that the round-faced boy thought the redhead was stark, raving mad.

"Did that flu you caught drive you absolutely nutters, or are you just pulling my leg?" Neville asked, sounding honestly concerned for his friend's well-being, "You two have hated each other almost since the day you met; and you've been out to get her cat ever since he ate Scabbers back in Third Year!"

"Crookshanks didn't eat Scabbers," Ron explained matter-of-factly, "Scabbers was actually…"

Ron stopped mid-sentence. Few people actually knew the truth about Scabbers and his true identity as the Death Eater animagus Peter Pettigrew, and Ron really didn't want anyone else knowing. After all, that particular tidbit of information required way too much explanation as well as the revelation of many facts of a sensitive nature – such as Sirius Black's status as Harry Potter's godfather, and the fact that Ron shared his bed for more than two years with a rat that was in reality a middle-aged man who caused the deaths of Harry's parents.

"Scabbers was actually…_what_, Ron?" Neville asked, almost seeming to be dreading the answer; as if he was expecting Ron to erupt into an angry diatribe about his poor, sickly pet rat and the evil squish-faced monster that ate him.

"Scabbers was actually…" Ron was trying to think up a convincing lie that he could tell his dorm-mate; a lie that wouldn't reveal too much about what really happened on that night in June a little more than a year ago, "Scabbers was…he wasn't _eaten_, Neville; he just ran away."

Ron felt a little bit proud of himself because that wasn't actually a lie at all, really; Scabbers _had_ run away, just not before being revealed for who and _what_ he truly was.

"That's not what you said last year…and the year before that," Neville said, as if to remind him, "You've been going on about her cat and your rat every time you _see_ that orange furball!"

"What the bloody Hell are you on about, mate?!" Ron raised his voice as he started to lose his temper. Neville was talking crazy, and he wouldn't stop, either, "Yeah, I _thought_ Crookshanks ate Scabbers back in Third Year, but it turned out that he just ran off! I haven't even brought it up in over a year!"

"Calm down, Ron," Neville said, shrinking away from his friend and his fiery temper, "It's not worth getting angry over."

Ron scowled at Neville; something was seriously wrong here. Hermione was furious with him for something he didn't even do, and Neville was trying to convince him that they weren't even friends and hadn't ever been. Maybe Harry knew what was going on.

"Do you know where Harry is, Neville?" Ron asked, looking around the common room but not spying the Boy-Who-Lived, "Maybe he can tell me what Hermione's on about."

"This Harry business again?" Neville said, looking confused, "You sure you're not still feverish?"

"Come on, Neville; stop playing these games!" Ron snapped, jumping to his feet and drawing looks from around the common room, "Harry-bloody-Potter! Have. You. Seen. Him?!"

"No, of course not," Neville said quietly, looking afraid of the angry redhead, as if he feared he might strike him, "I haven't seen him since dinner along with the rest of the Slytherins."

"Rest of the --…? Neville are you effing nutters or what?!" Ron exclaimed, looking as though he was absolutely beside himself, "I don't know what you're playing at, but you're not very bloody funny!"

"Ron, what --…?"

"Harry Potter's a Slytherin about as much as you or I am!" Ron continued, cutting across the cowering boy, "If this is some kind of practical joke, Neville, let me tell you, it's completely daft! Did the twins put you up to this?!"

"The twins? No!" Neville exclaimed, trying to get his friend to understand, "Ron, I'm not joking around. Are you sure you're alright? You're sounding a bit delirious; maybe I should take you to see Madam Pomfrey…"

"I don't need to go to the hospital wing!" Ron shouted indignantly, "I just need you to stop playing these ruddy games with me! Harry's my best mate; you don't think I'd know it if he was some slimy Slytherin?!"

Neville looked genuinely hurt by Ron's last statement, "I thought _I_ was your best friend…"

Ron laughed when he heard Neville's assertion, causing the round-faced boy's hurt expression to intensify. Ron felt a small twinge of guilt for laughing once he realized that Neville was serious; he really did think the two of them were best friends.

"Neville, don't get me wrong…you're a really great bloke, but me and Harry have been best friends since we met on the Hogwarts Express."

"Ron, I really think you should see Madam Pomfrey," Neville said as he got out of his seat and put a hand on the redhead's shoulder, "The stuff you're saying is barmy…you seem like you believe it, but I'm here to tell you, you're honestly starting to sound stark, raving mad!"

Ron glared at Neville and shrugged his hand off his shoulder, but that didn't stop Neville from continuing.

"I remember meeting you and Harry Potter on the Hogwarts Express when I was searching for Trevor, and yes, the two of you did look pretty chummy, but after that…after the Sorting Ceremony…you two lost touch and --…"

"I've had ENOUGH!" Ron yelled, marching towards the portrait hole, "If you won't drop this barmy act, then I'll just leave you to it while I go and find Harry!"

Before Neville could stop him, Ron was out the portrait hole, slamming the Fat Lady's painting, causing her to huff indignantly, and stormed down the stairs in search of Harry Potter. He could hear his dorm-mate calling after him, but Ron didn't bother turning back.

Ron's first stop was the Great Hall. Dinner was long over, however, and the few people who were still milling about the dining hall were either studying together, chatting amiably, or playing games of Exploding Snap, Gobstones, or wizard's chess. Harry was not among them.

When he entered the library, Madam Pince gave him a suspicious look and informed him immediately that the library would be closing shortly, and if he was planning on checking out any books, he would need to make his selections quickly and then be on his way. After assuring the vulture-like librarian that he wouldn't be long, he checked the stacks and the reading tables for any sign of Harry but found nothing.

After tickling the pear on the large portrait of fruit, Ron made his way down into the kitchens. It wasn't unusual for Harry to sneak down here to grab a late night snack or to check up on Dobby. Not only was there no sign of Harry, but Dobby wasn't there, either. In fact, when asked, each and every house-elf working clamoring to be of service to him, told Ron that Dobby didn't work at Hogwarts.

On the long hike up to the Astronomy Tower, Ron pondered the Dobby situation. Had he gotten another assignment? He was free, so that meant he could come and go as he pleased. That was just another thing he'd need to talk to Harry about when he finally found him. Unfortunately for Ron, though, Harry wasn't in the Astronomy Tower…but a couple of Sixth Year Ravenclaws were…doing what made the tallest tower in Hogwarts infamous among the student body.

"I wish I had Harry's map," Ron said to himself as he took the long walk back down from the Astronomy Tower, trying to get the image of the snogging Ravenclaws out of his head, "Of course, if he's playing along with Neville and hiding from me for whatever bloody stupid reason, he's probably looking at that ruddy map right now, watching to see where I'm headed. I swear to Merlin, if this has anything to do with him being jealous over me getting prefect, I'm going to thump him right in that scarred forehead of his!"

Ron checked the rest of Hogwarts to the best of his ability, and with no place left inside the castle to search, Ron decided to head outside and check the grounds for Harry, despite the lateness of the hour. It was already well after 8:00, and the school night curfew was rapidly approaching. Ron's status as a prefect would provide him with _some_ protection, but not even prefects had the right to be outside the castle after curfew.

There was no sign of Harry out by the lake near their favorite beech tree. Likewise, he wasn't out on the Quidditch pitch, in the stands, or in any of the locker rooms when Ron checked. With nowhere else to try – as there was no way Ron was going to wander blindly into the Forbidden Forest in search of Harry without knowing he was definitely in there – Ron headed for Hagrid's hut.

The hut was dark and there was no answer when he knocked on the door…and no barking Fang, either. Peering into one of the dirty, cracked windows, Ron could just make out that the cabin was completely devoid of life inside.

That seemed odd to Ron, as Hagrid was ever-present; even if the half-giant wasn't inside his hut, there was always a fire burning in the fireplace. He'd never seen the place look so barren. Sure, it was cluttered with Hagrid's furniture and belongings, but it still seemed completely empty.

By the time he got back inside the castle, narrowly avoiding caretaker Filch's cat, Mrs. Norris, Ron was cold, tired, muddy, and no closer to finding Harry Potter than he had been when he left the Gryffindor common room a couple of hours earlier.

Ron didn't feel like going back to the tower yet, knowing there would just be more confusing talk from Neville, swearing up-and-down that Harry was in Slytherin. The very notion was ridiculous. Harry had been in Gryffindor for four years; why would he all of a sudden be re-sorted? Could people even _be_ re-sorted?

"I bet Hermione knows…she knows _everything_," he said to himself, "There's probably a whole chapter on sorting in _Hogwarts, A History_, and whether or not students are allowed to change houses."

As he thought about Hermione, Ron remembered something that struck him as odd. He hadn't really paid it much mind at the time, since Hermione was shouting at him and blaming him for something he didn't do, but there was something different about Hermione…something about her face…her teeth! Hermione's buck-teeth, which had been normal just yesterday, had returned.

"I thought she fixed her teeth last year," he muttered to himself, scratching the back of his neck as he was lost in thought, "Maybe her parents made her put them back the way they were…"

Ron shrugged, deciding to ask Hermione about her teeth once she'd calmed down and was willing to talk to him again. For now, he needed to concentrate on not getting thrown in detention. It was getting on towards 11:00 at night, curfew had been in effect for nearly two hours, and Ron knew if he was caught wandering around the castle at this time of night, he'd be in deep trouble…prefect or not.

A sudden thought occurred to Ron as he climbed the marble staircase and reached the Fifth Floor landing. He was cold, he was dirty, and he was delaying his return to Gryffindor tower…and he _was_ a prefect. He headed down the Fifth Floor hallway, a new destination in mind.

"_Pine Fresh_," Ron said to the fourth door on the right as he stood near the statue of Boris the Bewildered. The door unlocked and he entered the Prefects' Bathroom, intent on taking a nice hot bath and mulling over his thoughts.

The last thing he expected was to find Professor Dumbledore standing in the bathroom with a gentle smile on his face and a twinkle in his eye.

"Ah, Mr. Weasley…I've been waiting for you."

**-- End Chapter 2 --**

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**AUTHOR'S END NOTES: **Well, there you have it…Chapter 2. Mirror Neville and Mirror Hermione have made their debut…still no sign of the all-important Mirror Universe goatee! But be on the lookout, people, it's out there!!! After all, what would a Mirror Universe be without SOMEONE sporting a goatee! Because, let's face it, people, goatees = evil!!!!

The next thing I post, which will be _next_ weekend, will be a Ron Weasley birthday story. For anyone who doesn't know, Ron's birthday is March 1, and I couldn't very well let my favorite character's birthday go by without doing a little shum'm-shum'm for the man!

Thanks for reading…feel free to review. I won't hold it against you!

I'll see you in two weeks (March 7) for the debut of Chapter 3. Hopefully, by then I'll be done Chapter 5 and well on my way to finishing Chapter 6! :-)

_**~Hawk~**_


	3. Mirror in the Bathroom

**AUTHOR'S NOTES:** _"Mirror in the bathroom, please don't freak; the door is locked, just you and me..."_ I know what you're thinking..."My, Uncle BlackHawk, what an unusual and innapropriate line on which to open yor Author's Notes!" Hehehehe! Ah, young padawan (okay, I totally hated using that line just now...makes me look like a STAR WARS geek, and while I like the original films -- what you younger people might think of as movies 4, 5, and 6 -- I don't geek out for it...but dammit, it just sort of rolled off the tongue...err...fingertips as I was typing and...ah shit, I'm rambling...) *Ahem* Let's try this again... Ah, young padawan (grr!!) you couldn't be more wrong!!! Anyone who knows my writing (either from **_AFTERMATH_**, some of my one-shots, or from my blog...which, y'know, I really should show some love and update soon) knows how much I enjoy using song lyrics...wait for it...as a TITLE for my stories (anyone whose read my songfic, _**EVERY BLOODY THING SHE DOES IS MAGIC**_, will know my stand on song lyrics in a story).

Well, **_MIRROR, MIRROR_** is bound to be a long story, no surprise then that I should go back to using my chapter titling (y'know...that word needs an "e" in it, otherwise it looks a bit dirty) convention. Okay, so does ANYONE see where I'm going with this?! "Mirror in the Bathroom", which is the title of this chapter, is from a SONG!!! Yes!!! In fact, it's the title (okay, I'm starting to giggle every time I type the word "title" now...how immature am I???) of the song. "Mirror in the Bathroom" is a song by the English Beat (although inside the U.K., they're just called the Beat...not a joke...completely serious) and it's a really snappy tune (great, now I sound like Tom Hanks in "That Thing You Do"). Sounds a bit like Oingo Boingo (or Boingo as I think they call themselves now). Seriously, if you wanna check out the song, Google "Mirror in the Bathroom"...your top result is probably gonna be a YouTube link to the video of the song. Click on it! Don't be afraid! Uncle BlackHawk wouldn't steer you wrong!

I have to confess something here: I completely forgot that _this_ was a posting week! I only remembered about an hour ago, as the thought "Am I posting this weekend" rang through my head. In my defense, it has been a rough week full of snowstorms, funerals, sleepless nights, and a burgeoning case of the flu. To be honest, I don't feel UP to posting. I just feel like crawling into bed, closing my eyes, and passing out until my headache, sore throat, runny nose, and stopped-up ear goes away. You guys will forgive me for not posting this week, right? A funny author's note is all you need to get you through the next two weeks, right?

Why do I suddenly have the feeling as though there's a red laser dot being projected onto the center of my forehead??????

If nothing else, Uncle BlackHawk is a trooper and he cares about his readers (people keep calling you guys my fans, but seriously...I don't have the kind of hubris in me to make that claim). So, here you go, people...Chapter 3. I know you guys are wonering why Dumbledore was waiting for Ron in the bathroom...now you will know!!! But first...Uncle BlackHawk needs to take care of a little business!

**GRATUITOUS THANKS:** It's reviewer shout-out time!! Yeehaw! If you reviewed, you know who you are; if you haven't, well let me enlighten you! **CutewithAcapital-Q**, **ObsessedRHShipper**, **kareem33**, **TiffanyM**, **MaNdErS20100**, **Alquimista**, **zsdvnn**, **allanfrontrow**, **Rosiline**, **Pattox0111**, **Avanell**, **HopelessRomantic79**, **Cantletharrygo**, **omega13a**, **dreAmer399**, **Supernatural Goddess**, **Trude**, **skippyboo** and** Bluerain22** have taken the time to review, and that makes them elligible to join the exclusive BlackHawk Reviewers Elite Club, which includes discounts on all future BlackHawk stories and 10% off your first purchase at the BlackHawk gift shop!

**OBSEQUIOUS COWTOWING:** Time for me now to thank my awesome Beta Reader, **CutewithAcapital-Q**. This story has _her_ stamp of approval, and that's good enough for me! Oh, and speaking of Her Cuteness, once your done reading this chapter, go on over to Cute's profile page (you can find her easily in the Favorite Author's section of MY profile page, if your too lazy to do much legwork) and check out her latest story **_Pork Chop_**. It's very funny...and definitely worth checking out...just like ALL her stories!!! Seriously...DO IT!!!

**DISCLAIMER:** These are all JK Rowlings toys...I just need to remember to put them all back in her toybox when I'm done playing with 'em.

* * *

**_MIRROR, MIRROR_**

**Chapter 3  
****"Mirror in the Bathroom"**

Ron stopped dead in his tracks as he entered the bathroom and found Professor Dumbledore standing there with a slight smile on his lips and a twinkle in his eye, seeming almost as if he was waiting for Ron to arrive. Ron was overwhelmed by feelings of shock, confusion, and awkwardness.

"Professor Dumbledore, what're you…err…that is to say…I'm surprised to see you, sir," Ron said, stumbling over himself. He wasn't used to having much direct contact with the school's headmaster. That had always been Harry's specialty…and he certainly wasn't used to having contact with the old professor in the bathroom of all places.

"I must admit, I'm not quite as surprised to see _you_, Mr. Weasley," Dumbledore said as he looked down at Ron over the top of his half-moon spectacles, "Though I am pleased to see that you're looking much more _upright_ than the last time I saw you."

"About that," Ron said, reminded of what Neville had told him, "I don't remember anything that happened between entering the portal at the train station and waking up in my dorm a short while ago. Neville said that I was sick and that I spent last night in the hospital wing."

"Mr. Longbottom only told you what was told to him," Dumbledore said cryptically, "But all things will be revealed to you in due time, Mr. Weasley. For now, though, perhaps we should discuss why we are here tonight."

"Yeah…well…err…I mean…this _is_ the Prefects' Bathroom, Professor. Don't you have…I mean…aren't there…erm…facilities for the…err…teachers to use?" Ron was clearly intimidated by Dumbledore's presence, but then who expects to find the school headmaster waiting for them in the lavatory?

"There are, indeed, faculty facilities for the teachers and staff; you are absolutely correct, Ronald," Dumbledore nodded, giving him an appreciative sort of half-smile, "However, since I came to see you, and you _are_ a prefect, this seemed like a good place to conduct our business, away from prying eyes."

"You came to see _me_…in the Prefects' Bathroom?" Ron was clearly having a hard time with all this. Despite all the strangeness he'd had to adjust to over the last couple of hours, Dumbledore waiting for him in the loo had to top the list.

"I know this is an unusual place to meet, Ronald," Dumbledore said, trying to be as comforting as possible, "But as we have unusual business to discuss, it seemed fitting."

"_Unusual business_?" Ron repeated, looking dumbfounded, "I don't understand, sir. What business could _we_ possibly have to discuss? Is it about my prefect's badge? Because everyone reckons I'd gotten it by mistake."

"No, Ronald, you were indeed chosen to be a prefect, though I fear perhaps not for the sincerest of reasons," Dumbledore said, frowning slightly, "However, that is not the business that brings us here tonight."

"Then what…?" Ron's face was a mask of confusion.

"Nature abhors a vacuum, Ronald," the headmaster said, that familiar, knowing twinkle missing from his eyes, replaced by something else…something that reminded Ron of when Cedric Diggory was killed, "I suppose that is why there _is_ no Nature in the vacuum of space; just vast amounts of emptiness."

"Reckon that's why they call it _space_," Ron quipped. He had muttered the comment, as if to himself, but nevertheless, Dumbledore appeared to have heard him loud and clear.

"Quite right, Mr. Weasley," the old professor said, smiling slightly as he clapped the young redhead on the shoulder, "Quite right."

Ron blushed, not having meant for his comment to have been overheard. He nervously ran his fingers through his disheveled red hair. "Err…you were saying…about Nature and a boring vacuum?"

Dumbledore gave Ron an appraising look and smiled fondly at him. "You truly do possess a singular wit, Mr. Weasley."

"Err…thank you?" Ron wasn't sure that was a compliment, but better safe than sorry.

"No need to thank me," Dumbledore said, waving a hand dismissively at him, "Thank _you_ for being able to find the humor in even the direst of situations. Now, as I was saying, Ronald, do you know anything about parallel dimensions?"

"Err…no," Ron didn't want to sound stupid, but he wasn't about to lie to Dumbledore. Dumbledore always seemed to know _everything_, so surely he'd know if Ron was lying.

"Of course…parallel dimensions aren't covered in Hogwarts' standard curriculum," Dumbledore said, frowning slightly, "Unfortunately, Ronald, I need for you to understand certain things, whether they are taught here at Hogwarts or not."

"A-and these parallel dimensions," Ron stammered nervously, "They have something to do with this vacuum business?"

Dumbledore clasped his hands behind his back and nodded sagely, "They do indeed, Mr. Weasley."

"Then what _is_ a parallel dimension, Professor?" the young man asked, wanting to understand what exactly the aging headmaster was getting at and why it sounded like something from a Muggle _gemometry_ course he'd heard Hermione talking about over the summer.

"Perhaps a bit of comfort before I explain, Mr. Weasley," the school-master replied as he conjured two squashy chairs, similar to the ones in the Gryffindor common room, and set them facing each other. He sat in one and offered the other to Ron, "Please sit, Ronald."

Ron sat, although it seemed more than a bit odd to be sitting in a comfortable chair in the middle of the Prefects' Bathroom; but, then, this whole conversation was more than a bit odd. He nervously thanked Professor Dumbledore and the headmaster continued on.

"Imagine if you will, Ronald, that this is the world on which we live," Dumbledore waved his hand and a blue-and-green orb about the size of a Bludger appeared and floated in front of them. Ron recognized it from a model of the solar system he'd seen in Astronomy class. It was the planet Earth.

Ron nodded in acceptance of Professor Dumbledore's premise that this floating ball was their world, "Alright."

"Now, imagine, Ronald, that separated by the merest veil of magic, there are worlds, universes, dimensions that are nearly identical to our own," Dumbledore waved his hand again, and a number of similar looking orbs appeared, lined up in a row, each one separated by a swirling mist of luminous purple energy, "These are parallel dimensions. Do you know how many parallel universes there are, Ronald?"

"I don't know," Ron said, shrugging. He looked at the line of planets in front of the old wizard, counting the worlds, "Five?"

"Not quite," Dumbledore, smiled. He waved his hand again, and the floating orbs multiplied, taking up more space between the headmaster and his pupil.

"Fifty-two?" Ron guessed again, randomly grabbing a number out of his head as he looked at the army of planets now floating in front of them.

Dumbledore waved his hand again, and the orbs multiplied once more, and the Prefects' Bathroom was nearly filled with floating Bludger-sized planet Earths (or should that be planets Earth?). "There are an infinite number of parallel dimensions, Mr. Weasley, and by that same token, an infinite number of Earths; all appear similar to our own, and indeed some of them are _very_ similar. Some, however, are quite different."

"This one, perhaps," Dumbledore continued, pointing at one of the floating Earths randomly, "Might be a world where magic doesn't exist and everyone is a Muggle…a dreary world indeed. This one," he pointed at another of the orbs, "Might be in a universe where we are all a bunch of talking animals or hand-puppets or who knows what else. On this one," Dumbledore pointed at a third Earth, smiling up at Ron, "The Chudley Cannons have been Number One in the League for the past hundred years."

Ron started chuckling at the absurdity of the things Dumbledore was saying. A world where everyone was a Muggle? A planet where he, himself, Ron Weasley, was a talking animal…a weasel perhaps? Or a universe dominated by animate _hand-puppets_?! All these things were laughably absurd…but none so absurd as the final one the headmaster had mentioned; a world in which the Cannons were _not_ in the basement of the Quidditch League standings, year-in, year-out. Yeah, right.

"As you see, Ronald, the possibilities can be quite amusing. However," Dumbledore waved his hand and all but two of the orbs disappeared, "Let us speak of these two worlds. They are identical…to a point. On both worlds, magic exists. There are wizards and witches and yes, Muggles, as well. Both saw the rise and inadvertent defeat of Lord Voldemort at the miniscule hands of a one-year-old boy named Harry Potter. On both of these worlds, an eleven-year-old Harry Potter was befriended aboard the Hogwarts Express by a remarkable young lad who would never quite understand his own importance to the universe…a young boy named Ronald Weasley…"

Dumbledore gave Ron a pointed look as he said this. Ron's eyebrows rose quizzically as he listened. How could _he_ possibly be important to the universe? He wasn't even important to his own family! Surely the old headmaster must have gone barmy!

"I assure you, Mr. Weasley, I'm quite sane," Dumbledore grinned, causing Ron to blanch visibly as he wondered how it was that Dumbledore always seemed to know what people were thinking, "On each of these two worlds you met young Harry Potter and became his very first friend. On this one, Harry was sorted into Gryffindor and the pair of you battled a troll to save Miss Granger's life, struggled your way through a series of puzzles to reach the Philosopher's Stone, entered the Chamber of Secrets to rescue your sister, Ginny, faced down a convicted mass-murderer who turned out to be Harry's godfather, and you watched as Harry won the Tri-Wizard Tournament only to see that victory tainted by the death of Cedric Diggory and the return of Voldemort."

Ron shuddered once again at the mention of He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named, and looked at the orb Dumbledore was indicating. That was certainly how events had played out. It was the abridged version, of course, but it was a fairly accurate summary of the last four years of Ron's life.

"However, on this world," Dumbledore said, pointing at the other floating globe, "Things played out a bit differently once you and young Mr. Potter reached Hogwarts. On _this _world, Mr. Potter was sorted into Slytherin."

"No!!" Ron exclaimed, unwilling to believe that his best friend…a person who exemplified the bravery of House Gryffindor…could ever be sorted into a House who valued cunning and self-preservation over everything else. Harry was Ron's best friend…loved by him as if he were a brother…and there was no way Ron could believe such a thing, "Harry's a Gryffindor! He became the youngest Seeker in a hundred years on the Gryffindor Quidditch team! He defeated Quirrell and Voldemort and saved the Philosopher's Stone! He destroyed Riddle's diary and the basilisk in the Chamber of Secrets! He fought off about a hundred Dementors and saved Sirius Black! He fought You-Know-Who at the end of the Tri-Wizard Tournament! Harry's a hero, he wouldn't be a Slytherin!"

Ron had jumped up out of his chair during his impassioned rant, and the kindly old headmaster reached a wrinkled hand up to gently clasp his shoulder, "Please calm down, Mr. Weasley. As I said, there are many different worlds, and yes, on _your_ world, that is exactly who Harry Potter is…a hero. In this universe, on _this_ world, however…"

"Wait…what do you mean _this_ world?" Ron looked a bit frightened as realization dawned and he started to understand what the old headmaster was actually saying.

"This world, Ronald," Dumbledore began explaining, trying to keep his voice soothing for the sake of the young man's nerves, "This very world you are standing on right now…is not _your_ world."

"What…?"

"You have come from _your_ world," Dumbledore said, pointing at the orb he had indicated while describing the familiar events to Ron a few moments earlier, "To _this_ world," the headmaster now pointed at the second orb; the one in which he said Harry Potter was a Slytherin.

"How…?"

"How? By magic, of course, Ronald," Dumbledore said with the slightest hint of a smile at the corner of his mouth, "There is very little that cannot be accomplished by magic, Mr. Weasley."

"Well…what am I _doing_ here?" he asked, thoroughly confused now. How could _he_ be in one of these parallel dimensions Dumbledore spoke of? That was positively mad!

"Ah, that brings us back to our discussion of Nature abhorring a vacuum," Dumbledore said, nodding, "As I said, there is very little that magic cannot accomplish. Returning the dead to a living state is one such thing that cannot be accomplished, not even by magic. You were brought here because this world _needs_ Ronald Weasley…and this world's Ronald Weasley is, I am most saddened to say, dead."

"Dead?!" Ron paled at the headmaster's words, and he felt his head start to spin. His knees gave out and Ron collapsed heavily into the chair behind him; he looked as if he was about to pass out, "I don't…I don't understand, Professor. I…I'm dead?"

"Listen to me, Ronald," Dumbledore said, trying to calm Ron down and get him to understand, "The Ron Weasley who lived on _this_ world is dead…_you_, however, are still very much alive."

"I still don't quite understand," Ron admitted, taking deep breaths to calm himself down, "How did I…I mean…_he_…die?"

The twinkle left Dumbledore's eyes and his face took on a gravely serious expression. He gave a great heaving sigh before he spoke again. "Two days ago, there was an attack at the Weasley home."

"My family!" Ron yelled, moving to the edge of his seat, eyes wide with panic, "I mean…_his_…bloody Hell! Are _they_ alright?!"

"Arthur, Bill, Charlie, and Percy Weasley were all at work during the attack," Dumbledore answered slowly, too slow for Ron's preference, "Molly and Ginny Weasley were shopping in Diagon Alley with the twins, Fred and George, no doubt picking up school supplies. The only one home…the only casualty…was Ron Weasley."

"Who…who did it?" Ron asked, his voice barely above a whisper. He was trembling as he silently thanked whatever Supreme Being was watching from On High that his…that the Weasley…family hadn't been hurt.

"We have our theories, of course," Dumbledore replied softly, "But none that can be spoken of at the moment. We do have people investigating, of course, but until such time as we have found enough evidence to prove out a particular theory, I do not wish to reveal the names of the possible culprits."

"Wh-what do you mean by 'we', Professor?" Ron asked, his faced screwed up in confusion. "Who's 'we'? You mean the Order?"

"I'm afraid, Mr. Weasley," Dumbledore responded, looking a bit sorrowful, "That is another thing which cannot be revealed at this time. Although, if you do bear with me, all things will be revealed…in time."

"Let me see if I've got this straight," Ron said, his head swimming dizzily, "There are two worlds…"

"There are many more than two, Ronald, as I have showed you," Dumbledore said, interrupting, "But for our purposes here tonight, yes, we are only concerned with two worlds."

"Right, so two worlds," Ron repeated, "_My_ world…and _your_ world…"

"So far, you are following along admirably," the aged wizard said, nodding.

"_Your_ Ron Weasley died, so you kidnapped me from _my_ world and brought me here to _your_ world," the redhead continued, running a nervous hand through his hair.

"I would take some offense at the notion that you were kidnapped, Mr. Weasley, but you are essentially barking up the right tree, as they say," Dumbledore assured him.

"So…how the bloody Hell do I get back home to _my_ world?!" Ron demanded, forgetting momentarily who he was speaking to. Luckily, Dumbledore was very understanding, and didn't seem the least bit put-out by Ron's tone.

"I'm afraid, Ronald, before you can return to _your_ world, you must perform a certain task on _this_ world," Dumbledore replied, as vaguely as possible, much to Ron's dismay.

"What 'task'?" Ron asked, his temper starting to flare again. Dumbledore had just dropped a bombshell on him and now he was being required to jump through some sort of hoop to be allowed to go back home.

"I'm afraid I can't discuss the task with you just yet, Ronald," the headmaster replied, frowning, "But as I said…"

"All will be revealed in time," Ron repeated, scowling.

Dumbledore smiled brightly, "You do catch on quickly, despite what your instructors would have me believe."

"So, all that rubbish Neville was going on about," Ron said, his mind clearing momentarily as certain pieces of the puzzling night he'd had started to fall into place, "About Harry being a Slytherin, and about me and Hermione hating each other…"

"All true, I'm afraid," Dumbledore said, sadly, "Your relationship with Miss Granger and Mr. Potter is truly special; it is quite a shame that such a relationship did not develop on _this_ world."

"You're telling me," Ron nodded, "Nothing like waking up to find your best friend is a Slytherin and the girl you…err…your other best friend hates your bloody guts."

"I can only imagine how difficult this must be for you, Mr. Weasley," the old wizard said compassionately.

"And what about that flu I supposedly had?" he asked, still trying to piece everything together.

"A necessary lie," Dumbledore replied, "To cover up your absence from the Hogwarts Express, and to explain the unconscious state you were in when you arrived here. We had hoped you would remain sleeping until morning, at which point I was planning to pay you a visit. Alas, the best laid plans of mice and men…and even wizards…oft' times go awry."

"Isn't there _anything_ you can tell me about this task you need me to perform?" Ron asked, desperate to do whatever Dumbledore needed him to do in order to get back home.

"All that I can say at this time is that we need you to be _this world's_ Ronald Weasley," Dumbledore said, folding his hands in his lap, "You must go about your day as if you _are_ from this world."

"But, Professor Dumbledore, you said, yourself, this world's Ron Weasley is dead…surely people know the truth…they'll know I'm not really…err…_him_."

"Only a select group of people know the truth, Ronald," the headmaster explained, "Myself and a group of my most trusted associates and, for obvious reasons, the Weasley family. To the rest of the world, you _are_ this world's Ron Weasley."

"You left out the killer…or killers," Ron reminded him.

"Perhaps not, Mr. Weasley," Dumbledore corrected him, "We believe that it's possible whoever is responsible for our Ron Weasley's murder may be fooled into thinking he's still alive by our little deception. If so, seeing you walking around hale and healthy may draw them out."

"So you want me to be bait, then, is that it?!" Ron was quickly losing all pretense of maintaining his temper.

"Ronald, please," the old schoolmaster sighed, leaning back in his seat, "Your safety is of the utmost importance to us. Even if there wasn't a threat from the person or persons who committed this horrible crime, we would still do everything in our power to keep you safe. For as long as you are here, you will be under the constant watchful eye of myself or one of my most trusted comrades. Nothing will happen to you."

"So I'm not only to be bait," Ron grumbled, "But I'm also to live in a fishbowl! Not only have you brought me to this barmy screwed up world of yours without asking me if I wanted to come, but now you're setting me out to be bait for people who have already killed _one_ Ron Weasley, and to top it all off you're taking away my privacy!"

Ron's anger was at its peak now, and even though he was talking to one of the most powerful and well-respected men in the entire wizarding world, he didn't care. All of this being dropped on him at once was too much.

"I mean, why should I even trust you?!" he yelled standing up and throwing his arms into the air for emphasis, "I mean, yeah, on my world Dumbledore is this great man who everybody loves…but Harry and Hermione are also my best friends! If that's not the case on this shite-heap of a world, then how do I know _you_ can be trusted like _my_ Dumbledore?!"

"Perhaps if you knew some of your own Dumbledore's dirty little secrets, Ronald, you'd see he wasn't the great figure beyond reproach that you're painting him as," Dumbledore said, suddenly looking very tired.

"What do you mean?" Ron asked, suddenly looking worried. Had _his_ Dumbledore gone along with _this_ Dumbledore's plan to steal him away from home and put him in imminent danger?

"Ronald, I'd rather not…"

"You want me to trust you, yeah?" Ron said, narrowing his eyes. He folded his arms across his chest and took up a stance he'd normally adopt when about to begin a real ripper of a row with Hermione, "Give me a reason to trust you."

"You were chosen to be prefect because your world's Dumbledore felt Harry had too much on his plate this year."

The words hung in the air between the aging professor and the young hot-head as silence filled the room. Ron's eyes widened in shock; he reached into the pocket of his robes and pulled out the gold and scarlet badge.

"Take it," he spat angrily, tossing the badge into the headmaster's lap, "I don't want it!"

"Ronald…"

"_That's_ how you expect to get me to trust you?!" he snapped, "By proving to me that everyone was _RIGHT_?! That I _DON'T_ deserve to be a fucking prefect?! That I really _AM_ bloody _WORTHLESS_?!"

"Ronald, please sit," Dumbledore said, motioning towards the chair Ron had abandoned in his rage, "I did not wish to make you feel bad about yourself…but I did need to make a point to you."

"And what's that?" Ron asked sullenly, his face a mask of hurt and sadness. He had turned his back to the headmaster, not wanting him to see just how much the truth had hurt him.

"That even a man you revere so greatly, as your own world's Dumbledore, can do the right thing for the wrong reason."

Ron turned slightly, looking up at the schoolmaster for some sort of clarification of what he was talking about. Dumbledore once more motioned towards the chair and Ron reluctantly shuffled over and sat down. Once he was seated, Dumbledore patted him affectionately on the knee.

"You deserved to be made prefect, Ronald," the headmaster continued when it was obvious Ron had nothing to say and was quite done yelling, "Not because Harry Potter was overwhelmed with the things he'd have to deal with this year…but because of who you are…based on your own virtues. You have demonstrated year-after-year, a sense of bravery and loyalty in the face of danger that is second-to-none."

Dumbledore reached up and touched the lapel of Ron's robes, and before he knew what the headmaster was up to, Ron's prefect badge was pinned to him and shining brightly.

"You are many times the man that this world's Ron Weasley was, Ronald," Dumbledore said softly, clapping Ron on the shoulder, "And if _he_ deserved to be prefect, then you most certainly do."

"Thanks," Ron mumbled, looking down at his shoes. He couldn't help feeling that the things Dumbledore was saying were done so out of pity instead of any sort of fact.

"I regret hurting your feelings, Ronald, I truly do," Dumbledore continued speaking in a soft, sympathetic tone, "I know that I have most likely failed to gain your trust…"

"Professor," Ron cut across Dumbledore, but even so he tried to be as respectful as possible despite the obvious distress he felt due to his current situation, "I don't know how, but you always seem to know everything…on either world…"

"I do find it beneficial to keep myself apprised of various goings-on," Dumbledore nodded, agreeing. He smiled as it seemed that Ron was coming around and accepting his current predicament.

"You said our worlds stopped being identical at the Sorting Ceremony during First Year," the redhead continued.

"That is a fact, Mr. Weasley," the aging headmaster replied, folding his hands in his lap.

"Would you be able to tell me what happened _here_ for the last four years?" Ron asked, doing his best _not_ to look overwhelmed while asking the question.

"I suppose if you _are_ going to masquerade as this world's Ronald Weasley, you will need rather _detailed_ information," Dumbledore agreed, reaching up to stroke his bearded chin in a pensive manner.

Ron nodded in defeat. There was nothing else for him to do; for him to get home, he had to do whatever it was that _this_ Dumbledore wanted. Ron was forced to resign himself to the fact that if he ever wanted to see the people he loved, he'd have to play along, doing as he was told until such time as he'd done whatever the Hell he needed to do.

"The question," Dumbledore continued, "Is how to go about giving you that detailed information."

"…" Ron said nothing, still looking dejected-yet-expectant at the headmaster.

"Fret not, Mr. Weasley," Dumbledore said with a smile, "That question was rhetorical."

"Oh…good…" Ron mumbled.

"Aha! Yes, of course!" Dumbledore called out with a broad grin as he brought out his wand, "I need you to clear your mind, Ronald…"

"…" Ron looked at Dumbledore blankly.

"Is your mind cleared of everything?" the wizened old wizard asked expectantly.

"Err…yes…?"

"Good," Dumbledore nodded, moving his wand up to Ron's head, "Now, prepare yourself, Ronald…this may tingle slightly."

Ron nodded and gritted his teeth, setting his jaw. The elderly headmaster briskly tapped Ron atop his head with his wand and suddenly Ron's head began to swim with a cacophony of kaleidoscopic colors. Ron felt as though he were trying to swim through an ocean of treacle, his vision began to go fuzzy and then everything for Ronald Weasley went completely and utterly black.

**--End Chapter 3 --**

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AUTHOR'S END NOTES: **Okay, so there ya' go...Chapter 3. I hope everyone managed to understand Dumbledore's explanation of everything. Any questions, feel free to ask me.

Next chapter, we'll see what happened during Mirror!Ron's first year at Hogwarts! See for yourself in two weeks!!!


	4. Through the Mirror of My Mind

**AUTHOR'S NOTES:** So, you're probably thinking to yourself, "What the Hell, man? This was an update weekend, so where the Hell is the next _Mirror, Mirror_ chapter?! Did that fuck-monkey flake on us, or what?" No, I didn't flake on you, and believe me, I'm well aware that this is an update weekend. However, March 23 is my friend Alana's birthday, and she asked me nicely to hold off on posting until her birthday as sort of a birthday present for her. So, if you're wondering why you had to wait an extra three days for Chapter 4 to get posted, you can all blame Alana (a.k.a. **wow60**); just remember, when you lay the blame on her, to wish her a happy birthday as well! To that end...**HAPPY BIRTHDAY, Alana!**

This chapter's title was taken from the song "Reflections Of", by Diana Ross and the Supremes. Anyone who's ever seen the very awesome Vietnam-period drama, "China Beach", will recognize the song as the opening theme song. Anyone wanting to check it out need only hit YouTube and type in "China Beach theme" into the search window. It's a good song, and it lends itself well to the mirror-theme of this particular story.

I'm about to go off-topic now, for a (hopefully) short rant. What the Hell is with the fanfic writers who have Harry, Ron, and Hermione (or any other good guy) casting Avada Kedavra in order to finish off Voldemort and/or his Death Eaters? I mean, was I the only one paying attention during _Goblet of Fire_? The Imperius, Cruciatus, and Killing Curses are called The Unforgiveable Curses FOR A REASON. The usage of them is UNFORGIVEABLE and will earn you a one-way ticket to a lifetime sentence in Azkaban...do not pass Go, do not collect 200 galleons! So, for all you fic-writers out there who have written a scene where the Trio solve the Voldemort Problem by casting the worst of the Unforgiveables, I say thee nay!!! Knock that shit off!!!

Okay, now that I got that off my chest, we can get back to the matter at hand: Chapter 4. This is a long chapter...two or three times longer than my usual chapters, in fact. The length, however, is necessary, though, since in this chapter you'll start to see what life has been like for Mirror!Ron without having Mirror!Harry in Gryffindor. The next four chapters (4, 5, 6, and 7) will each cover one of the last four years of Mirror!Ron's life. If anything gets confusing, don't hesitate to ask questions.

**GRATUITOUS THANKS:** **CutewithAcapital-Q**, **ObsessedRHShipper**, **kareem33**, **TiffanyM**, **MaNdErS20100**, **Alquimista**, **zsdvnn**, **allanfrontrow**, **Rosiline**, **Pattox0111**, **Avanell**, **HopelessRomantic79**, **Cantletharrygo**, **omega13a**, **dreAmer399**, **Supernatural Goddess**, **Trude**, **skippyboo**,** Bluerain22**, **David Fishwick**, **ClayCelloFire**, **8thweasleykid**, **Jokegirl**, **dristi** and **Babasahin Ko** are all my official bestest friends ever, since they took the time to review this here story! What are _you_ waiting for? Review!! All the cool kids are doing it!! And remember...the first one is ALWAYS free!!

**OBSEQUIOUS COWTOWING:** **CutewithAcapital-Q** is my completely totally awesomely radical Beta Reader. As I'm writing this, it's like I've got a tiny little Cutie on my shoulder screaming in my ear anytime I make a stupid mistake. That's a joke...she doesn't scream at me...she's wonderful and pleasant and she just posted a new chapter in her _TWILIGHT_ story **_Breaking Dawn Alternate Ending_**. So, if you're vampirically inclined, and you prefer bloodsuckers who sparkle in the sunlight instead of combust, go on over to her page and check out the story.

**DISCLAIMER:** This stuff all belongs to J.K. Rowling...at least until I've put the finishing touches on my time machine. Once I'm done, and I hit 88 miles per hour, I'm totally gonna snake _HARRY POTTER_ out from under her!

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**_MIRROR, MIRROR_**

**Chapter 4  
****"Through the Mirror of My Mind"**

When his vision returned to normal, Ron found himself standing at the front of the Great Hall with a throng of other students. They all looked so young, and suddenly as he watched a blonde, pig-tailed girl he recognized as Hannah Abbott move to sit on a stool and have a manky old hat placed over her head – clear down past her eyes – Ron realized he was back in First Year again, watching the Sorting Ceremony take place once more.

"Bones, Susan…"

Ron started to zone out, lost in his thoughts. He hadn't known what to expect when Dumbledore had tapped him on the head with his wand, but being brought back to this moment in time hadn't even entered his mind as a remote possibility. He had stopped paying attention to the ceremony, so lost in his thoughts was he, until he heard a name which held great interest for him.

"Granger, Hermione…"

Ron was snapped out of his reverie by the sound of Professor McGonagall announcing Hermione's name. Ron smiled inwardly and chuckled (although his eleven-year-old memory body just stood there, scowling slightly) as the bushy-haired little know-it-all nearly ran towards the stool and excitedly jammed the Sorting Hat down onto her head.

"GRYFFINDOR!" the Hat announced loudly, and inside his mind, Ron found himself smiling with pride. The girl he knew certainly _was_ every bit a Gryffindor.

Ron thought back to how he had wanted anything but to be sorted into the same House as Hermione Granger; how he had groaned (which his eleven-year-old memory-self did) when she had been placed in Gryffindor – the House he wanted to be in; the House his whole family had been in.

How different his life would have been…how different it would be now…if Hermione had been sorted into Ravenclaw. How empty his life would be without her in it. She was so important, so special to him…even if he could never tell her, since she obviously didn't feel even remotely the same about him; their argument at King's Cross was proof of that.

Even though nothing would ever come of it, at least Ron had her friendship.

Ron was frowning now – albeit, inside his own mind – and when a sudden thought hit him, he started to frown even deeper. This bushy-haired marvel in front of him wasn't _his_ Hermione. _This_ Hermione and this world's Ron…in this dimension they weren't friends. In fact, if their brief encounter in the common room was any indication, Hermione despised him here. He didn't know _why_ she hated him so, but he was almost afraid to ask.

"Potter, Harry…"

Ron was drawn out of his thoughts again as Professor McGonagall now called Harry's name. He couldn't help but notice that every eye in the Great Hall was now focused on the puny-looking bespectacled boy, including those Professor Dumbledore. Every person in the room watched with interest as young Harry Potter nervously placed the Sorting Hat on his head.

The Sorting Hat, which at times – such as with Draco Malfoy – had barely been on a person's head before shouting out the name of House the student was to be sorted into, seemed to take the longest time trying to sort Harry. Finally, to the surprise of everyone, and the dismay of many, the Hat made its choice.

"SLYTHERIN!"

_"NO!!"_ Ron tried to yell, but his voice only echoed inside his own mind. This was merely some sort of memory…similar to a dream or something…and Ron was not actually there. He couldn't speak or act…he was trapped inside the body of eleven-year-old memory Ron as the dead boy's memories unfolded before him.

The Slytherin table erupted in cheers and Ron could see young Draco Malfoy smirking with glee. The rest of the students in the Hall seemed stunned, including eleven-year-old Harry as he shuffled off towards his new House table. Ron and Harry locked eyes briefly before the black-haired boy moved off into the crowd at the cheering table; the boys emerald eyes were full of dread and despair.

Looking quickly up at the Head table where the instructors sat, Ron saw he wasn't the only one to react badly to Harry's sorting. Hagrid was beside himself, looking on the verge of tears. Ron did a double-take as he looked to Snape; this universe's version of Snape was sporting a greasy-looking goatee that just made him look more evil than before. Snape seemed confused by Harry's sorting, as if he were unsure if he should applaud or scowl…he settled for scowling while softly clapping. Dumbledore, on the other hand, looked disappointed and slightly heartbroken.

And then there was Quirrell; Ron knew that the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor was secretly housing Voldemort's spirit -- like some sort of parasite -- and all the peril Harry had faced during his First Year was _his_ doing. What Ron _didn't_ know was why Quirrell was smiling so broadly as he watched Harry take a seat at the Slytherin table.

Ron's mind went black again before he could ponder that particular thought any further. The blackness lifted, revealing a new image…another memory; but if that previous memory seemed different to Ron, this new memory seemed completely _alien_.

Ron found himself in his very first Potions class on Friday of his first week at Hogwarts, but once again, it wasn't as he remembered it.

Potions was a double-class, and that not only meant the class was twice as long (a full hour instead of thirty minutes) it also meant it was a class they shared with the Slytherins. It was the first chance Ron would have to see Harry since the Sorting Ceremony.

Ron kept his eyes trained on the door and began smiling as he saw Harry enter the Potions dungeon, until he saw Harry's face and the large black-eye he sported. When he saw this, Ron jumped out of his chair and rushed to his friend's side.

"Bloody Hell, Harry…what happened to you?" Ron asked as he reached the Boy-Who-Lived.

Harry cast a sheepish glance over towards the Slytherin side of the room where Malfoy sat smirking at him while his two goons, Crabbe and Goyle, stood behind him cracking their knuckles.

"I walked into a door," Harry said softly, blushing as he did. He was obviously lying and appeared to be unable to look Ron in the eye, "It used to happen all the time at the Dursleys."

"You're lying," Ron said, exasperated.

Before Harry could respond, Professor Snape came swooping into the dungeon like some great sallow-faced, greasy-haired bat.

"Take your seats!" Snape snarled, the tip of his goatee quivering, as he made his way to the front of the class, "And Mr. Potter, do try not to walk into anything between here and your desk."

The Slytherins – especially Malfoy and his cronies – broke out into laughter at the Potions master's words. Harry began shuffling over to the Slytherin side of the room while Ron quickly grabbed a seat on the Gryffindor side, not realizing until it was too late that he was sitting next to Hermione.

Snape proceeded to ask questions about potion ingredients aimed at embarrassing Harry when he didn't know the answer. Memory-Ron rolled his eyes as Hermione's hand kept shooting up for every question, but Real-Ron couldn't help smiling to himself; she was a genius, even at the age of eleven.

Snape, of course, didn't call on Hermione and snapped at her when she wouldn't stop raising her hand. The rest of the class went much as Ron remembered it, but every time he stole a glance across the room at Harry, he cringed at the miserable defeated look on the boy's bruised face.

After class, Ron rushed out in order to catch up with Harry and talk about what had happened. Harry was slinking away down the hallway like a dog that's been kicked, moving in the opposite direction that Ron, himself, needed to go.

"Harry…wait up!" he called, grabbing onto Harry's arm and making the smaller boy flinch. Real-Ron couldn't believe this was the same boy that was his best friend; and then he remembered…it wasn't. This was a different Harry, from an entirely different universe.

"I need to get to class, Ron," Harry said softly, not even looking at him, "I don't want to be late."

"Who did this to you, Harry?" Ron asked, "Was it Malfoy and his goons?"

Harry's head snapped around to face Ron suddenly and the fear he held in his emerald eyes told Ron that he'd hit the nail on the head. Just as suddenly as the fear had appeared, Harry's face became passive and devoid of all emotion and when he spoke, he did so in a somber monotone, "I told you, Ron…I walked into a door."

"That's rubbish, Harry, and you know it!" Ron snapped, "If they did this, let me know and I'll help you get back at them!"

"Leave it alone, Ron," Harry said, almost pleadingly.

"If he was attacked by another student, he should tell his Head of House. Getting revenge will just get the two of you in trouble."

Both boys turned to see Hermione Granger standing behind them, a haughty sort of look on her face. Harry's look of defeat had returned.

"Professor Snape practically caught them in the act," Harry said, explaining the futility of seeking help from his Head of House, "Malfoy told him I had sleepwalked into the door of the dormitory and he, Crabbe, and Goyle had gotten up to help me back to bed. Snape, of course, believed him."

"That slimy git!" Ron yelled angrily, "I hate Snape!"

"_Professor_ Snape is still a teacher, Ron, and you need to show him respect," Hermione said in annoyingly obnoxious tone of voice.

"And you need to shut up and mind your own business!" Ron snapped hatefully and hurtfully, "We were having a private conversation!"

"I…I just came over to tell you that were going to be late if you didn't hurry up," she said in a shy, hurt little voice, "I'll see you in class."

Before either boy could respond, Hermione rushed off towards the next class on the First Year Gryffindor timetable.

"Merlin, she's annoying," Ron said, turning back towards Harry. Harry, however, had taken to Ron's yelling at Hermione as an opportunity to escape the conversation and get to class. Before Ron could even call after him, Harry had rounded a corner and was gone.

Real-Ron was shocked and appalled at his treatment of Hermione. This particular interaction hadn't happened on _his_ world and it hadn't been _him_ who was so cruel, but he still couldn't help feeling bad. If this was even _close_ to how he had treated Hermione in First Year, it was no wonder she didn't really think they were friends.

Thinking about _his_ Hermione on _his_ world saddened Ron and made him long for home. Did Hermione even miss him, or was she just too angry from their fight in the train station to even notice that he was missing?

Things faded out again, and when his vision cleared, Ron found himself in a new memory. The First Year Gryffindor and Slytherin students were standing outside and Madam Hooch was escorting Neville to the hospital wing with a broken wrist.

Ron recognized the memory as their very first class of Flying Lessons. He remembered this as the day that Harry had earned his spot as Seeker on the Gryffindor Quidditch team, making his the youngest Seeker in a century. Of course, that couldn't happen here since Harry wasn't a Gryffindor in this cocked-up mess of a universe.

"Get your greasy little paws off that, Malfoy!"

Ron heard the words coming out of his own mouth, and although he wasn't surprised that _he_ was standing up to Malfoy (it had become a recurring theme every year at Hogwarts), he _was_ surprised to see that Harry _wasn't_ standing up to him.

In _his_ universe, it had been Harry who attempted to rescue Neville's Remembrall from Malfoy's clutches. It had been Harry who had chased Malfoy into the air astride a broom. And it had been Harry who had impressed Professor McGonagall with his talent, thus securing his spot on the House team.

But in _this_ universe, Harry just stood near the back of the group of Slytherins, staring sheepishly down at his feet. Ron could not believe his eyes. This was definitely not _his_ Harry!

"You heard me, Malfoy!" Ron shouted, stepping up to the blonde-haired boy and looking down at him menacingly, "Give it here!"

"Why do _you_ want it, Weasley? Hoping to sell it so you can afford some robes that fit?" Malfoy sneered, smirking at Ron as most of his fellow Slytherins started laughing, "Or maybe you'll send the money home to help pay for that one-room hovel your family lives in!"

Ron's face went red and he gritted his teeth; when he spoke again, his voice was as near a growl as an eleven-year-old boy could get, "Harry may be afraid of you, Malfoy, but I'm not!"

Malfoy's head snapped around and he shot a glare at Harry, "Telling _lies_ about me, Potter? You'd best watch yourself…the way you _sleepwalk_, who knows what might happen next time!"

Harry said nothing and merely looked away. Ron found himself glaring angrily at the boy who would have been his best friend. He couldn't understand how _this_ Harry could be such a coward.

"If you want Longbottom's little toy, Weasley," Malfoy called mounting a broom and kicking off, lifting into the air, "Come and get it!"

Turning his attention back to Malfoy, Ron began to mount his own broom, intent on flying after him until someone grabbed his arm.

"_No!_" Hermione shouted, giving him a look that was equal parts fear and fury, "Madam Hooch told us not to move – you'll get us all in trouble."

"Mind your own business!" Ron shouted back, "And get _off_ me!"

Ron turned and snatched his arm away from Hermione so roughly that it caused her to lose her balance and fall.

"It's your own fault!" Ron snapped, looking down at her on the ground, "You should have let go!"

Before Ron could turn his attention back to his broom and Malfoy, there was a sudden _crash_ of breaking glass and the laughing voice of Malfoy above them.

"Oops! It slipped," Malfoy laughed. The vicious Slytherin had smashed it against the trunk of a nearby tree and now the Remembrall lay in pieces so small it could never hope to be mended, "Too bad you were too busy arguing with your beaver-toothed girlfriend, or you might have been able to catch it."

"She's not my girlfriend!" Ron shouted.

_"And she never will be,"_ Real-Ron thought regretfully. _This_ version of himself was hundred times more horrible to Hermione than _he_ had ever been; at this rate, Ron was afraid to imagine how his dead counterpart had treated her during the infamous "Nightmare Incident" on Halloween.

Suddenly, Ron regretted that train of thought as things went hazy, only to return to focus once more on another memory. He breathed a sigh of relief when he found himself in the Great Hall having dinner as Neville took a seat next to him.

"How's your arm?" Ron asked from around a mouthful of steak-and-kidney pie.

"Fine," Neville said, filling his own plate with food, "Madam Pomfrey mended it in about a minute. But she still made me take some horrible-tasting potions and lay in a bed for over an hour to make sure I was alright."

"Blimey," Ron exclaimed, bits of food spraying from his mouth, "She's worse than my Mum!"

"My Gran would have insisted I stay in bed for a week," Neville admitted, letting Ron know he had it easy, "And she probably would have paid for a healer to check up on me every single day."

Ron shook his head in disbelief; Neville's grandmother was even more overprotective than his own mother…and if Molly Weasley was one thing, it was overprotective of her children! At least _his_ mother never sent him a Remembrall whenever he forgot something.

"Listen, Neville," Ron began, blushing slightly, "About your Remembrall…"

"Have you found it?" Neville asked excitedly, "I've lost it and I can't remember where!"

The irony of Neville not being able to remember where his Remembrall is was not lost on Ron. Even so, his ears reddened and he felt slightly embarrassed as he began explaining what happened to the memory-aid.

"It was Malfoy who found it," Ron explained, motioning with his head towards the pointy-faced Slytherin where he sat at his own House table laughing with Crabbe and Goyle, "You dropped it when you fell off your broom; I tried to get it back from him, but before I could…Malfoy broke it."

Neville's face paled, causing Ron to feel even worse.

"He broke it?" the round-faced boy asked, his voice cracking, "My Gran is going to kill me."

"It's Granger's fault," Ron said sharply, looking up from Neville's crestfallen face and cutting his eyes at the bushy-haired brunette who sat by herself near the end of the table, "She grabbed me to stop me going after Malfoy, and by the time I shook her off, he'd broken it. Malfoy --…"

"What _about_ me, Weaselby?" Malfoy sneered as he and his cronies approached the Gryffindor table, "Regaling Lardbottom with the story of how you failed to save his Remembrall?"

"Shove off, Malfoy!" Ron snapped jumping to his feet.

"And what will you do if I choose not to, Weaselface?" Malfoy asked with a malicious glint in his eye.

"How about I give you a taste of what you've been doing to Harry," Ron said, motioning with his head in the direction of the Slytherin table where a very sullen-looking Harry Potter sat picking at his dinner as far away from the rest of his House as he could get and still be seated at the same table; his black eye and swollen lip visible even from across the Great Hall.

"You're going to make me sleepwalk into a door?" Malfoy chuckled, but the menacing look in his cold, grey eyes told Ron it was a forced laugh.

"That's a load of rubbish and you know it!" Ron snapped, "What's wrong Malfoy afraid to face me without Crabbe and Goyle?"

"Shut your mouth, Weasel!" Malfoy snapped, glaring hatefully at Ron, "I'm not afraid of anything. I'd take you on anytime on my own. Tonight, if you want. Wizard's duel! Wands only – no contact. What do you say, Weasel?"

"Fine by me. Neville's my second," Ron replied, "Who's yours?"

Malfoy looked at Crabbe and Goyle, sizing them up.

"Crabbe," the blonde Slytherin said, "Midnight all right? We'll meet you in the trophy room; that's always unlocked."

When Malfoy and his minions were gone Neville grabbed Ron's arm, a frightened look on his face, "What do you mean _I'm_ your second? I can't fight a duel!"

"You'll only have to take over if I die," Ron said casually, taking a bite of his pie which was now cold. He could see by the look on Neville's face that his explanation didn't alleviate the other boy's fears, so he quickly added, "But people only die in proper duels, you know, with real wizards. The most Malfoy and I'll be able to do is send sparks at each other. Neither of us knows enough magic to do any real damage. I bet the tosser expected me to refuse, anyway."

"And what if you wave your wand and nothing happens?" Neville asked, worried about what Ron had gotten them into.

"I'll throw my wand away and punch him in the nose," Ron said, grinning smugly. Watching all this transpire, Real-Ron couldn't help but think his young counterpart was planning on dueling with his fists regardless.

"Excuse me." The boys looked up to see Hermione Granger standing before them.

"Can't a person eat in peace in this place?" Ron growled, shooting the girl a disgruntled scowl.

Hermione ignored his comment and spoke her piece, "I couldn't help overhearing what you and Malfoy were saying –…"

"Bet you could if you _tried_," Ron hissed.

"--…And you _mustn't_ go wandering around the school at night, think of the points you'll lose Gryffindor if your caught, and you're bound to be. It's really very selfish of you."

"And it's really none of your bloody business!" Ron snapped, causing Hermione to quail slightly before huffing in exasperation and turning on her heel to leave.

"Goodbye, Hermione," Neville said softly, waving at her back as she left.

"Stupid girl," Ron growled, jamming his fork into his pie, "Why can't she just leave me alone?!"

Real-Ron sighed, knowing that his young counterpart was bound to get his way. Everything this world's Ron did pushed Hermione further and further away.

Darkness once again drifted in around Ron's vision and within moments the scene before him swirled away and a new one came into view. It was late at night, judging by the quiet, and he and Neville were sneaking down the boys' stairway into the Gryffindor common room.

"It's already half-past eleven," Ron murmured as they reached the common room, dressed in their bathrobes, "We're going to have to hurry."

"Are you sure about this, Ron?" Neville asked, his voice squeaking.

"Neville," Ron said, stopping and turning to face the timid boy behind him, "You can't let people like Malfoy intimidate you, because if you do, they're going to be doing it your whole life. You can't let people push you around; you have to push back! Stand up for yourself! You're worth twelve of Malfoy, Neville, so have some pride!"

"What about you?" Neville asked nervously, his eyes darting around the dark, heavily shadowed room.

"I won't let Malfoy push _me_ around, I'll tell you that!" Ron said emphatically, "Now come on!"

"But you're pushing me around," Neville said, fidgeting, "You dragged me into this without asking me first."

"I'm not talking about me!" Ron exclaimed, rolling his eyes in exasperation, "We're friends, Neville, you don't have to stand up to me!"

"But…what if I really don't want to go?" the other boy asked, looking anywhere but at Ron.

"Why wouldn't you want to go?" Ron asked, not believing what he was hearing.

"Perhaps he doesn't want to get into trouble, Ronald."

The common room had been lit solely by the dying embers in the fireplace. Now, however, a lamp flickered on revealing a very disappointed-looking Percy Weasley standing with his arms folded across his chest, blocking the portrait hole. Off to the side, as if hiding near the girls' staircase, was Hermione Granger dressed in her pink bathrobe.

"You little snitch!" Ron bellowed at Hermione, making as if to go after her, causing her to squeak in fear and scurry partway up the steps where she knew she'd be safe.

"Ronald!" Percy yelled stepping forward and grabbing his brother by the shoulder, "You should be thanking her for telling me about your plans with that Malfoy boy. Had Mr. Filch or one of the teachers caught you, you'd lose House points and receive a detention…or worse. Is that really something you want to drag your friend into?"

"Sod off, Percy!" Ron snapped, glaring at his brother.

"I'm a prefect, Ronald," Percy said sternly with an air of superiority, "And if you're not careful, _I'll_ give you a detention!"

"You would, wouldn't you?" Ron scowled, looking at his brother in disgust before turning an angry gaze towards Hermione where she sat, huddled on the girls' stairs, "Thanks a lot you nosy little swot!"

Hermione gasped in shock, and her eyes seemed to swell with tears quickly and she turned and ran up the stairs.

"Ronald!!" Percy yelled turning his brother to face him, "What would our mother say about you yelling at that girl? I'd suggest you get yourself and your friend back up to your dormitory and get to bed before you wind up falling asleep in class tomorrow."

Ron turned on his heel and stormed back up the boys' staircase with Neville right behind him. Of course, Ron was too busy grumbling to himself to notice Neville's presence at this point.

"Poncey git," Ron growled, "My own brother threatened to give me detention! Where's the family loyalty?! I should get the twins to do something to him!"

"Do you really think you should?" Neville asked nervously, looking back over his shoulder to see if Percy was listening in.

"Too right I should!" Ron snapped as they reached the First Years' dormitory, "Teach Perfect Percy that family is more important than some stupid prefect badge."

"Maybe you should just calm down and go to sleep," Neville suggested quietly as they entered the dorm and silently made their way to their beds, "Messing with your brother is just going to get you in trouble."

"And that girl!" Ron groused, completely ignoring Neville, "How _dare_ she keep sticking her nose in my business?! Can't she take the hint?!"

"She's not that bad, Ron," Neville said shyly, as if he were afraid Ron would turn on him next, "I think she really just wants to help."

"Yeah, help herself to _my_ business," Ron griped as he took off his bathrobe and climbed into bed, "I just wish she would go away."

_"Be careful what you wish for,"_ Ron said as his counterpart closed the curtains around his bed and went to sleep.

The world seemed to swirl away into oblivion and once things settle down Ron found he was in a new memory, this one set outside the Charms classroom. Immediately, Ron recognized this as a memory that only _slightly_ paralleled his own, and he felt his stomach drop and his skin start to crawl at the prospect of how this memory might differ from his own. _"Oh, Merlin, no…"_

"If you had just listened to what I was telling you, you could have been the one to do it first…then _you_ would have been the one to win points for Gryffindor."

Hermione and Ron were leaving the classroom, bickering over what had happened within. This was a definite change from the way Real-Ron remembered it.

"And if you would just mind your own business and stop acting like such a little know-it-all, maybe you'd have some friends!" Ron shouted, oblivious to anyone who might be watching, "You're such a bloody nightmare!"

Hermione gaped at him. All she had ever done was try to help him and get him to like her. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes and her lip began quivering.

"I hate you!!" she screamed, shoving past him so hard that Ron stumbled backwards and nearly fell. He watched her go, the sounds of her sobs echoing off the stone walls of the corridor and mingling with the sounds of laughter from some of the other students who observed the spectacle.

If Memory-Ron felt the least bit bad about what he had just said to Hermione, he didn't show it. He simply shrugged his shoulders and made his way towards his next class.

_"You arse! You great stupid git!!"_ Ron cursed at the eleven-year-old memory-version of himself inside whose body he was currently trapped. He knew that he, himself, had mistreated Hermione during their First Year at Hogwarts together, but it didn't hold a candle to the way this world's version of Ron Weasley behaved. He was quickly developing an urge to throttle his eleven-year-old self.

Things started to go black and Ron shuddered, fearing what he was going to see next. He had his suspicions what the next memory would be. When the darkness receded and Ron found himself looking out over the Great Hall as it erupted in chaos, Ron's suspicions proved correct.

Professor Quirrell had just bolted into the Great Hall, yelling frantically about a troll running around loose in the dungeons. The students were racing out of the dining hall in search of their respective common room while the prefects from each House tried to keep matters under control.

Ron was along for the ride as his counterpart raced up the steps towards the Seventh Floor alongside the other Gryffindors. There was no Harry around to remind him of Hermione's continued seclusion in the girls' loo, oblivious of the troll's presence in the castle, and if this world's Ron remembered on his own, he didn't show it.

"Is everyone accounted for?"

Ron looked up as he heard the voice of his brother Percy the Prefect. Fifth Year prefects were always placed in charge of the First Year students in their House; it was the prefects' job to make sure the brand-new students were getting on well in their equally brand-new environment…and in times of emergency, it was the prefects' responsibility to ensure that all the students in their charge made it to safety.

"First Years…are any of your classmates missing?"

"Ooh!" Parvati Patil jumped forward from her spot next to Lavender Brown, "Hermione Granger's not here. She skipped all her afternoon classes and I saw her crying in the Ground Floor girls' bathroom earlier. She said she wanted to be left alone."

Percy turned to face his female counterpart – prefects always came in pairs…a boy and a girl…for situations exactly like this one. "Check the girls' dormitory; she may have come back unnoticed and decided to lie down if she was sick enough to miss her classes."

"She skipped all her classes after the fight you had with her," Neville whispered to Ron as they watched the female prefect make her way upstairs.

"It's not my fault she stayed in the bathroom all day," Ron whispered back, crossing his arms across his chest stubbornly.

"I know you don't like Hermione, Ron, but do you really want her to die?" Neville asked, looking up at his friend.

"What? She's not going to die…!" Ron hissed back, agitated by the things Neville had said, "She's probably upstairs asleep!"

"What if she's not?" Neville asked.

_"If she's not, then whatever happens to her is your fault," _Ron thought, wishing he could actually say that to his young counterpart.

Precious moments ticked by before the girl prefect returned, shaking her head to indicate that Hermione Granger was _not_ in the girls' dorm. Ron already knew where Hermione was; no doubt _this_ Hermione was still down in the girls' lavatory about to have the same run-in with a mountain troll that _his_ Hermione had.

"We'll have to alert the Seventh Year prefects," Percy said in a voice that was pompous and emotionless at the same time, "Perhaps they can go looking for her, or they can contact the Head Boy or Girl and get them involved."

Watching this occur, Ron was out of his mind with aggravation. On _his_ world, by this time, he and Harry were already in the process of mounting a rescue; but here, _this_ Ron didn't seem to give a damn.

"What now, Ron?" Neville asked as they watched Percy and the prefects conferring.

"By the time Perfect Prefect Percy gets around to actually look for her, Hermione could be…" Ron's First Year counterpart was muttering to himself moreso than Neville. "And it'll be all my fault."

Real-Ron couldn't help but feel relief as his memory-self bolted through the portrait hole and ran off to help the girl he had so thoroughly insulted earlier; perhaps there was hope for him after all. The sound of Hermione's blood-curdling scream coming from behind the bathroom door filled Ron with dread and spurred his younger counterpart into action. Until…

"Ronald!"

Ron jumped a foot in the air as his name was yelled from behind him. He turned quickly and his face paled as he saw his brother, Percy, standing in the hallway looking angry – so angry in fact that there was a sudden resemblance to their mother. Real-Ron was so stunned he could hardly think to do anything but watch the scene unfold before him.

"I don't know what you think you're doing out here without permission or how you thought no one would notice you sneaking out of the common room, but you're going back right now. Do you realize how dangerous it is out here right now? There's a troll loose in the castle!"

Ron opened his mouth to respond, but before he could make so much as a peep, an explosion of sound came erupting out of the room behind him. A great crashing cacophony of wood, metal, porcelain, and stone being smashed asunder mixed horribly with an inhumanly loud beastly roar and an ear-splitting feminine scream of sheer terror.

Percy pushed past Ron and threw open the door to the girls' bathroom behind him. The lavatory looked like a war zone. The toilet stalls were nothing more than great shards of wooden splinters lying about the floor, and the toilets themselves had been smashed into pieces so small the were unrecognizable. A row of sinks, too, had been pulverized and bits of glass and metal was all that remained of several wall mirrors. Water was spewing in every direction from the mangled pipes of the annihilated plumbing fixtures.

In the corner, huddled into a ball with tears running down her face to become indistinguishable from the spray of water drenching her, Hermione cowered screaming her lungs out as she faced what she had to assume was certain death. Certain death in the form of a full-grown mountain troll, smashing and bashing at everything within sight with its monstrous wooden club; a club with on more than one occasion it aimed at the young girl only managing to miss her as the terrified girl scurried out of the way at the last instant. But now, with the girl trapped in the corner, it was but a matter of time before she would be nothing more than a smear on the stone floor.

"The teachers are in the dungeon," Percy said quickly to Ron as he dashed into the room, "Run get help…quickly!!"

"But…" Real-Ron couldn't believe his eyes. He remembered this event clearly; he and Harry rushed in to save Hermione from the troll. Harry was caught by the troll and in as much, if not more peril as Hermione and he, Ron, had to save the day. But here…watching the memory of his dead counterpart unfold…Ron knew that would not come to pass. He would not be the one to save the day.

"GO!!!"

Having never heard his brother Percy use that tone of voice ever in his life, Ron ran off as fast as his long, gangly legs and big feet would carry him. Racing into the entrance hall, Ron found Snape and Quirrell coming down the marble staircase and figured they were better than nothing. Of course, Real-Ron knew why Snape and Quirrell were coming down the stairs – they'd been up at the forbidden Third Floor corridor – but his counterpart did not.

"Professors!! Troll…girl's loo…Percy…Hermione…hurry!!!

Snape and Quirrell seemed caught off-guard by Ron's sudden appearance and subsequent outburst, but they recovered quickly…or, at least, Snape did. He shoved Quirrell in front of him, and the two of them hurried down the hall, back the way Ron had come.

Ron was just about to follow when Professor McGonagall came through one of the heavy wooden doors leading down into the dungeons.

"Mr. Weasley, what in the name of Godric Gryffindor himself are you doing outside of your common room?!" Professor McGonagall asked, her lips a thin, angry line, "Did you not hear the Headmaster's announcement? Are you not aware of the danger?!"

Ron frantically explained the situation to Professor McGonagall, making a bit more sense than he did when explaining it to Snape and Quirrell. Scowling even more deeply than she had when she thought it was just _one_ of her students in danger.

Rushing down the hallway, hot on the heels of Professors Snape and Quirrell, they reached the girls' bathroom just in time to see Snape cast a spell that dropped the troll in an instant. Peering into the girls' bathroom, Ron looked on in horror at the sight of his brother Percy lying battered and bloodied on the floor with Hermione huddled on the floor next to him, crying hysterically.

"Percy!" Ron yelled, trying to rush into the bathroom and see if his brother was alive. McGonagall's firm hand on his shoulder prevented it. Even though this wasn't _his_ brother, and even though this was all just someone else's memory, Ron couldn't help his feeling of dread. Percy may be a prat, and he may have turned his back on his family, but he was still his brother, and seeing him laid out on the floor, looking half-dead, still had a profound affect on Ron. He never wanted to see any of _his_ brothers looking like that…not even Percy.

"We'll need to get your brother and Miss Granger to the hospital wing immediately, Mr. Weasley," Professor McGonagall said as Snape cast a spell that levitated Percy onto an invisible stretcher. "And you will need to return to Gryffindor Tower, poste-haste."

"But my brother…!" Ron started to protest, blushing slightly when he realized that he was arguing with his Head-of-House.

McGonagall's stern gaze faltered slightly as she relented, "Very well, Mr. Weasley, you may accompany your brother to the hospital wing. However, you must stay out of the way, and once Madam Pomfrey tells you to leave, you must return to Gryffindor Tower. Am I understood?"

"Yes, Professor," Ron replied, reddening quickly.

"Oh, and Mr. Weasley," the professor began, her stern visage returning, "Five points will be taken from Gryffindor for the reckless behavior displayed by yourself and Miss Granger tonight."

"Five points?!" Ron exclaimed in complete shock.

"Each," McGonagall added, just in case her point hadn't been made before.

"Each?!" Ron was red-faced and practically beside himself as he shouted at the deputy headmistress.

"Shall I make it _ten_?" she asked, arching an eyebrow at him.

Ron blanched and suddenly dropped his gaze to the floor, "Err…sorry, Professor."

"Very well, then, Mr. Weasley," McGonagall said, turning and moving off down the hallways, "You'd best get to the hospital wing and check on your brother…before you find yourself in any more trouble tonight."

By the time Ron reached the hospital wing, Madam Pomfrey was nearly finished tending to Percy's injuries. He was still unconscious, but he looked much better, and was rapidly going from deathly pale and pallid to the more normal-looking pasty-white of the Weasley family. It appeared that Percy's run-in with the mountain troll would leave him with nothing more than a few bruises.

Hermione, Ron noticed, was sitting up on one of the hospital beds with a blanket wrapped around her, sipping from what appeared to be a hot cup of tea. She had her knees tucked up against her chest and were hugging them against her with one arm, slowly rocking back-and-forth. She looked so fragile…so broken…it was nearly breaking Ron's heart as he continued experiencing his counterpart's memory.

"How's my brother?" Ron asked the matron, casting nervous glances back-and-forth between Percy and Madam Pomfrey.

"He'll be fine," the nurse replied, "He's fortunate that his injuries weren't life-threatening, going up against a troll like that." She shook her head and clucked her tongue, muttering something about Gryffindors having more courage than common sense.

"He saved my life."

Ron and Madam Pomfrey looked up at Hermione. Her voice was so quiet, it was barely a whisper. She stared straight ahead at Percy's unconscious form, tracks from her dried tears staining her cheeks.

"If he hadn't come in and distracted the troll, it would've killed me," she sobbed. Suddenly she looked up at Ron, as if noticing him for the first time, and her eyes…which had been somewhat blank and lifeless…flashed darkly, "It's your fault I was there; you horrible, cruel, hateful little boy!!"

Ron stepped back as if physically struck. Real-Ron was struck dumb. Never would he have expected to hear that from Hermione, not even during one of their worst rows.

Madam Pomfrey looked up from her treatment of Percy to give a stunned look to Hermione. "Mr. Weasley," the nurse said, turning her attention to Ron, "I think it best if you return to your common room now."

"But…"

"Your brother will be asleep until morning," Madam Pomfrey said, cutting across the redheaded boy, "You can come and see him then."

"But…"

"_Now_, Mr. Weasley," the matron said sternly, "I won't have you upsetting my patients. Now shoo!"

"Fine…" Ron said glumly. He turned and left the hospital wing, but not before hearing one final exchange between Hermione and the school nurse.

"I hate him, I really do," Hermione sobbed as the hospital wing doors closed behind Ron, "I hate him with all my heart."

"There, there, Miss Granger," Madam Pomfrey said in a soothing voice as she finished tending to Percy, "A bit of Dreamless Sleep Draught and you'll be right as rain in the morning."

"That won't stop me from hating him," Hermione croaked, "I'll hate Ron Weasley for the rest of my life."

Hermione's words sliced through Real-Ron's heart like a knife. They weren't spoken by _his_ Hermione…deep down, he knew that…but just the fact that it _was_ Hermione…_any_ Hermione…saying those horrible things…he felt like he just wanted to die.

Ron welcomed the change when this memory faded and the scene shifted away from Halloween and another memory swirled into view. When his vision cleared, Ron found himself sitting in the Gryffindor bleachers at the Quidditch pitch.

The Gryffindor team was taking on Slytherin, and as he watched the memory unfold, Ron recognized this as the very first match of the year…the match that would have been Harry's first match ever if he wasn't a Slytherin in this manky mixed-up parallel universe.

Ron was curious as to who took Harry's place as Seeker in _this _dimension, but he couldn't quite make him out – at least he thought it was a him – as he circled about, high above the pitch, in search of the elusive golden snitch.

"Thanks for saving me a seat."

Ron turned his attention away from the Quidditch players and looked up as Neville took a seat on the bleacher next to him. The round-faced boy looked a bit flustered and out of breath.

"Alright there, Neville?" Ron asked, noticing his friend's state of discomfiture.

"I was stuck in the library working on my Potions homework, and I had to run all the way here to make it to the game in time."

Ron shook his head and chuckled, turning his head back to watch the players above the pitch, "I don't know why you go to Granger for help with your homework all the time. You don't see me running to her for help, do you?"

"That's because you know she'd never help _you_," Neville said with a chuckle as he pulled out a pair of field glasses to better watch the game, "Besides, you haven't melted three cauldrons this year alone. I need all the help I can get!"

"All you're doing by going to her for help all the time is stroking her ego," Ron said bitterly, "It's no wonder she thinks she's better than everybody when everyone keeps asking for help with their homework."

"It's not everybody," Neville informed his friend, "It's just me. I don't know if you've noticed, but most people tend to ignore Hermione."

"I don't blame them," Ron sniggered, watching the Gryffindor Chasers move downfield with the Quaffle, "She's not a very friendly person."

"Well she's nice to me," Neville said quickly, sounding as though he was getting annoyed at his friend, "She's _always_ been nice to me…ever since she tried to help me find Trevor on the train. Maybe if you just tried to --…"

"OY!!" Ron snapped, looking crossly at Neville, "Whose friend _are_ you, anyway…mine or hers?"

"Can't I be both?" Neville asked hopefully.

"No!!" Ron yelled, glaring at his friend, "She hates me, and I hate her! You're going to have to pick one of us!"

"No!!" Neville yelled, glaring at Ron, "I'm not going to choose which friend I'm going to keep! You can't make me!"

Ron shrank back, surprised at Neville's outburst, "Neville…"

"We're friends, Ron," Neville said, calming down, "You and I are friends. But so are Hermione and I, and it isn't right that you asked me to pick…and if you do, you're not going to like my choice."

"Fine," Ron grumbled, folding his arms across his chest, "I thought I told you _not_ to stand up to _me_."

Neville smiled and turned his attention back to the Quidditch match just as Katie Bell scored against the Slytherin Keeper, Bletchley. The two boys were quiet for a few minutes, concentrating solely on the game until Ron spoke up again.

"Hey, Neville…can I take a look at your Potions homework later?"

Neville blushed but smiled brightly at the same time, "Sorry, Ron. Hermione made me promise not to let you see any of the homework she helps me with; she doesn't want you copying."

"Bloody Hell!" Ron cursed, drawing looks from several of the other Gryffindor students assembled in the bleachers, "I told you she hates me!"

Ron found himself chuckling as this memory faded to black; it was a very Hermione thing to do, and he couldn't help laughing at the expense of his young counterpart. Unfortunately for Ron, his amusement would be short-lived.

Another unfamiliar memory flashed into Ron's mind. It was Christmas break, judging by the decorations everywhere; Ron's parents had decided to spend the holiday in Romania with his older brother Charlie, leaving Ron and his three brothers at school.

Ron was, apparently, outside enjoying a snowball war with the twins when he saw a familiar bespectacled face walking through the snow towards the lake. He hurried after him, eager to catch up to Harry.

"Oy! Harry, wait up!" Ron called, running up to the black-haired boy and grabbing hold of his arm in order to get his attention.

"Get off!!" Harry yelled, pulling back violently and rounding angrily on Ron, "Go away and leave me alone, Ron!" The black-haired boy's face was sporting a black eye, but this one appeared to be fading. Malfoy and most of the other Slytherins went home for Christmas, so Harry must be receiving a respite from his nightly "sleepwalking accidents"

"Harry…what's wrong?" Ron asked, looking hurt by Harry's reaction.

"What do you think is wrong?!" Harry shouted angrily, in a manner reminiscent of the way Ron had taken to speaking to Hermione, "I hate it here! I'd rather be back at the Dursleys' in the cupboard under the stairs than spend one more minute stuck here in Slytherin!"

"Let's go talk to Professor McGonagall," Ron suggested, "Maybe she can talk to Dumbledore and get him to sort you into a different House."

"Professor Snape wouldn't allow that!" Harry snapped, starting to walk off again, "He likes being able to 'keep and eye on me'…"

"Stuff Snape!" Ron cursed, "Bugger Snape!! He doesn't run the school; Dumbledore does!!"

"Maybe not, but Professor Snape _does_ run Slytherin House," Harry replied, continuing his journey towards the lake, "And since I'm _in_ Slytherin, that means he's in charge of _me_. So I'd rather not make things harder on myself than they already are by making Snape angry by going over his head."

"So, what…?" Ron asked, jogging after Harry, the snow crunching noisily underfoot, "You're just going to stay in Slytherin and put up with the beatings by Malfoy and his thugs?"

"Leave it alone, Ron," Harry warned.

"Why?" Ron scoffed, "You might be afraid of Malfoy, but I'm not!"

Ron had to jump back when Harry rounded on him, his face full of fury, "Do you have any idea _why_ they do it, Ron?! _Do you?!_"

"Erm…err…no…I…"

"Because of YOU! That very first night when Malfoy sicced his goons on me, do you know what he said to me afterwards? He said, 'That's for choosing the wrong sort of wizard to be friends with…that's for choosing a Weasley over a Malfoy!'"

"What…?!" Ron's face paled at the thought of being the cause of his friend's pain. The paleness quickly flashed to red, however, as he was filled with anger towards Malfoy.

"Every time they see me talking to you," Harry went on, "I get another beating for 'not learning my lesson.'"

"Harry…"

"So if you're really my friend, Ron," Harry's voice was calm now as he turned and continued his trek down to the frozen lake, "Do me a favor and just stay away from me from now on. Just pretend I don't exist, because that's what I'm going to do to you."

Ron stood, open-mouthed, as he watched his friend move the remaining thirty yards down to the lake, but the distance may as well have been a thousand miles, because Harry Potter had just effectively walked out of his life.

They may have only spent a few hours getting to know one another onboard the Hogwarts Express, but the friendship that had developed that day was special…Ron knew that his eleven-year-old counterpart could feel it. And now, with that friendship officially over, he knew nothing would ever be the same again.

Thoroughly demoralized after watching the end of his friendship with Harry, Ron really didn't want to see any more memories. It didn't matter that this wasn't _his_ world and these weren't _his_ friends that hated him, and _he _wasn't the Ron Weasley they hated. All that mattered was the looks on the faces of the two people who were most important to him as they exited his life.

All of these memories combined to show Ron just how tenuous his friendship with Harry and Hermione really was. He had never imagined what his life would been like without his two best friends, and now that he could see just how bleak his life could be, he wanted nothing more than to return home to a world where his friends were _still_ his friends; but as this memory faded and yet another came into view, Ron knew that that was not going to happen.

Ron found himself once again in the bleachers of the Quidditch pitch, this time watching Gryffindor take on Hufflepuff. He was once again seated next to Neville, when someone poked him rather hard in the back of the head. It was Malfoy.

"Oh, sorry Weasley, didn't see you there," Malfoy grinned broadly at Crabbe and Goyle.

"Sod off, Malfoy," Ron snapped, turning his attention back to the match playing out before him about the Quidditch pitch, "Shouldn't you be back over in the Slytherin bleachers?"

"You know how I think they choose people for the Gryffindor team?" Malfoy said loudly, completely ignoring Ron's question, "It's people they feel sorry for. See, there's McLaggen, who's got no talent, then there's the Weasleys, who've got no money – you should be on the team, Longbottom, you've got no brains."

Neville went bright red, but turned in his seat to face Malfoy, "I'm worth twelve of you, Malfoy," he stammered.

Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle howled with laughter, but Ron, still not bothering to take his eyes from the game, said, "You tell him, Neville."

"Longbottom, if brains were gold, you'd be poorer than Weasley, and that's saying something."

Ron's tolerance for Malfoy was already stretched to the breaking point after what Harry told him over the Christmas break. "I'm warning you, Malfoy – one more word --…"

"Ron!" Neville exclaimed suddenly, "Look!"

McLaggen, the Gryffindor Seeker, had gone into a spectacular dive which drew gasps and cheers from the crowd. Neville jumped up, crossing his fingers, as McLaggen streaked towards the ground like a bullet.

"You're in luck, Weasley, he's obviously spotted some money on the ground!" said Malfoy.

Ron snapped. Before Malfoy knew what was happening, Ron was on top of him, wrestling him to the ground and beating on him with fists of fury. Neville hesitated, then clambered over the back of his seat to help.

Ron and Malfoy were rolling around under the seats and there was a scuffle and yelps coming from the whirl of fists that was Neville, Crabbe, and Goyle. The five boys were so wrapped up in their brawl that they didn't even notice when the stands erupted with cheers, signaling the end of the match.

Ron felt a sense of pride and vindication as he watched his young counterpart give Malfoy what-for. As this particular memory faded out, he remembered how this scene had played out on his own world; he'd come away unscathed whilst giving Malfoy a black eye, and except for being knocked out, Neville was none the worse-for-wear from his set-to with Crabbe and Goyle.

When his vision cleared again, Ron found himself once more in the midst of an unfamiliar memory.

Memory-Ron and the ever-present Neville Longbottom were sitting in the Great Hall alongside a throng of other students. There was a buzz of excitement passing throughout the crowd as various rumors and bits of gossip were bandied about.

"Did you hear about Harry Potter?"

"I heard he failed his D.A.D.A. exam, so he killed Professor Quirrell!"

"That's stupid! I heard that Snape killed Quirrell because he was protecting Potter…and everyone knows Snape hates Potter!"

"Well, _I_ heard that Hagrid killed Quirrell because Quirrell found out he was keeping a dragon as a pet!"

"That's just barmy! Potter had the dragon, and it _ate_ Quirrell and half of the First Year Slytherins before Snape and Hagrid put a stop to him!"

"You're mental…look! All the Slytherin First Years are their table except for Potter; explain that!"

"The way I heard it, Quirrell kidnapped Potter from out of the Slytherin dorm while he was sleeping; apparently Quirrell need Potter's help to steal something from the Third Floor, but when Potter refused to help him, they struggled and Potter killed him by accident."

At the conclusion of this last theory, the rumor-mongering students who'd been having this discussion turned to face the final theorist and began laughing derisively at him.

"That has got to be the absolute stupidest thing I have ever heard! What…did you read that in _The Quibbler_?"

The laughter and jibes continued until the group of students changed topics and started spreading rumors about something else.

"Do you think the rumors are true?" Neville asked before taking a bite of his waffles.

"I don't know," Ron replied from around a mouthful of sausage, "But Harry and Quirrell aren't at their tables."

Ron pointed across the hall to the Slytherin table where Harry was conspicuously absent. He then motioned to the Head table at the front of the hall, where Quirrell, too, was missing.

"You and Harry Potter are friends, right?" Neville asked, "Couldn't you just _ask_ him what happened?"

Ron scowled and then dropped the forkful of food back onto his plate without eating it; suddenly he'd lost his appetite.

"We're not exactly friends anymore," Ron admitted, his ears going red as he thought back to their encounter over Christmas, "I'll see you later, Neville; I still have some packing to do before we leave tomorrow."

Ron didn't wait for Neville to respond as he jumped to his feet and hurried out of the Great Hall. Once in the entrance hall, Ron headed up the marble staircase, making a beeline for the hospital wing.

Ron poked his head through the double doors, looking to see if Harry was inside; sure enough, across the ward, never the window, Harry laid in one of the hospital beds, looking forlornly up at the ceiling. Checking to make sure Madam Pomfrey wasn't about, for fear of her running him off, Ron entered the hospital wing and hurried over to Harry's bedside.

"Alright there, Harry?" Ron asked nervously when he reached the other boy.

"What are you doing here, Ron?" Harry asked bitterly, not even bothering to look at his visitor, "Go away."

"There are a lot of rumors going around about you, Harry," Ron offered by way of an explanation for why he was in the hospital wing.

"And let me guess," Harry snapped, "You came up here to see if they were true. Go away, Ron!"

"I came here to see if you were alright, you prat!" Ron snapped back, still harboring some ill will towards Harry for the way he abandoned their friendship.

"I killed somebody, Ron! How do you _think_ I am?!" Harry's face was a mask of rage, and Ron inadvertently took a step back, "Quirrell and Voldemort were working together to steal some sort of stone hidden beneath the Third Floor…"

Ron flinched as soon as Harry said _Voldemort_, but he recovered quickly, "Quirrell? That doesn't make sense, Harry," Ron said lamely, trying to wrap his head around the Defense Against the Dark Arts instructor working for He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.

"Well, I'm not lying if _that's_ what you're getting at!" the black-haired boy roared defensively.

"No, Harry, I didn't mean…"

"Quirrell snatched me out of bed and dragged me off to some dungeon or something trying to get me to steal the stone for him," Harry explained, "When I didn't give it to him, Quirrell attacked me!"

"Bloody Hell…!" Ron gasped, eyes wide, "But Quirrell's a teacher!"

"It wasn't _just_ Quirrell," Harry continued, "It was like Voldemort was living inside him."

Once again, at the mention of Voldemort's name, Ron flinched and paled visibly.

"Voldemort ordered Quirrell to kill me, but when he touched me, it hurt him. I didn't have much time to think since Quirrell was getting ready to kill me with some spell," Harry continued, his voice softer and shakier as he recalled Quirrell's final moments, "I grabbed Quirrell and held onto him; he was screaming in pain and his skin was blistering like I was burning him."

"Then what happened?" Ron asked, riveted by Harry's story, "Did Quirrell die?"

"I think so," Harry said, nodding, "I must have passed out from the pain in my scar…"

"Your scar…?" Ron looked at the lightning-shaped mark on the other boy's forehead.

"It hurts whenever Voldemort's around," Harry explained.

"Wicked!" Ron gasped, almost forgetting to flinch at the name.

"I woke up here in the hospital wing," Harry continued, ignoring Ron's outburst, "Dumbledore said that Voldemort left Quirrell to die. He thought I was dead, too."

"You talked to Dumbledore? Cool!" Ron looked on with wide eyes, more and more impressed with Harry's story. He really wished he'd been there to see it all…except, perhaps, for the part involving You-Know-Who.

"Weren't you listening, Ron?!" Harry yelled, making Ron jump, "I killed someone! Voldemort almost killed _me_! It's not cool or wicked or anything else you might say to make it sound like a fun little adventure!"

Ron backed up another step, "Sorry, Harry…"

"This is my life, Ron! Voldemort's out there and he wants me dead! You think this all sounds exciting, but all I did was make him angry!"

"I said I was sorry…"

"I'm starting to think I should have accepted his offer…" Harry muttered to himself, looking away from Ron.

"What offer?" Ron asked, concerned.

"Nothing, Ron; I'm just tired," Harry lied, "I think it's best if you just go away."

"But…"

"I said leave me alone!!!" Harry jumped up to a kneeling position as he shouted at Ron like a man possessed.

"What is all this shouting?!" Madam Pomfrey asked sternly, coming through the double doors carrying a tray of oatmeal, toast, and pumpkin juice. Her eyes narrowed when she noticed Ron, "Mr. Weasley…upsetting another one of my patients! Do I need to have a word with Professor McGonagall about you?"

"Don't bother, Madam Pomfrey," Harry said, glaring at Ron, "He was just leaving; weren't you, Ron?"

"Yeah, right," Ron grumbled, moving towards the exit as he shot a disappointed look at Harry, "There's no reason for me to be here anymore."

Ron left the hospital wing, leaving behind any shreds that remained of his friendship with Harry Potter. Once again, the darkness engulfed Ron.

**-- End Chapter 4 --**

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**AUTHOR'S END NOTES:** Well, there you have it; now you know SOME of what went down at Mirror!Hogwarts before Real!Ron showed up. Any questions? If so, go ahead and ask 'em.

Chapter Five is done and will be posted in two weeks (according to the schedule on my profile page); now I need to write Chapter Six! See you in two weeks, people!!!

~Hawk~


	5. Reflections of the Way Life Used to Be

**Author's Notes:** Man am I stupid!!!! The version of Chapter 5 I posted was the wrong version...an earlier version!!!! THIS is the finished version!!!!!!

Here we are...Chapter 5. Has it seriously been two weeks since I last posted? Well, _no_, technically, it _hasn't_. I posted the last story on Monday, March 23, so really, this story is about three days shy of being posted two weeks later. Not that it really matters in the final analysis. All I know is that time is passing quickly, and I don't like it. In another two weeks, Chapter 6 is due to be posted...the problem is that Chapter 6 isn't written yet.

I can hear you all out there now: "Uncle BlackHawk, what's the big deal? Two weeks is nothing; you _always_ take two weeks for the next chapter." Ah, but kiddies, here's the thing: up 'til now, I've been a couple of chapters ahead of the curve each time I posted. Hell, I had four chapters written before I posted the first chapter of this story. Now? Well, I've got a later chapter all buttoned up, but the chapters leading up to it...not so much.

It's my own fault, too. See, I was _struggling_ pretty hard to get this chapter done. Not within the time-frame, mind, this chapter has been done for at least a month...no, I was struggling with the chapter's plot...what happened in Mirror!Ron's Second Year at Hogwarts? I had no more idea than you do right now as you're sitting here reading this. I made a comment to my Beta Reader that if I could just finish this chapter, the next two chapters would be a breeze. I should'a effin' known better. Anytime I open my big mouth and make those sorts of statements, the Gods of Karma come along and say, "Oh yeah? Put up or shut up, Mr. Fancy-Pants!!"

I've been cursed with a crippling case of writer's block ever since. Sitting here, struggling with trying to put together Chapter 6...trying unsuccessfully, I might add...I can't help thinking I'd rather be cock-blocked than suffer writer's block. :-/ If I can't work through the writer's block and get the chapter done, Chapter 6 may well NOT be posted in two weeks. Consider yourself warned.

Oh, an in case anyone's wondering, this chapter's title is another line from "Reflections Of" by Diana Ross and the Supremes.

**Gratuitous Thanks: **Everyone who's read **_AFTERMATH_** knows I like to send a shout-out to those stalwart readers who have taken the time and effort to review my story for me; without someone reviewing my work, I have no idea how I'm doing (since we all know I think my work is complete rubbish). So, to you, the reviewers, I say thee THANKS, and to you the non-reviewers, I say thee what're you waiting for? All the cool kids are doing it! **CutewithAcapital-Q**, **ObsessedRHShipper**, **kareem33**, **TiffanyM**, **MaNdErS20100**, **Alquimista**, **zsdvnn**, **allanfrontrow**, **Rosiline**, **Pattox0111**, **Avanell**, **HopelessRomantic79**, **Cantletharrygo**, **omega13a**, **dreAmer399**, **Supernatural Goddess**, **Trude**, **skippyboo**,** Bluerain22**, **David Fishwick**, **ClayCelloFire**, **8thweasleykid**, **Jokegirl**, **dristi**, **Babasahin Ko**, **SugarDee**, and **wow60 **have been awesome enough to review **_MIRROR, MIRROR_** so far...which makes them cooler than the other side of the pillow!

**Obsequious Kowtowing:** As you know, I'm working with **CutewithAcapital-Q** as my Beta Reader for this story. So, thanks again to her for helping me out with this one.

**Disclaimer:** JKR owns this stuff, though she might not want it anymore when she sees what I've done to it.

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**_MIRROR, MIRROR_**

**Chapter 5  
"Reflections of the Way Life Used to Be"**

"Professor…please, stop!" Ron practically begged as the memories from First Year ceased, "I don't think I can take anymore of those memories."

"There is more you need to see, Ronald," Dumbledore said, raising his wand again, "In order to understand the world in which you now find yourself."

"But wait!" Ron said, grabbing the wizard's wrist without realizing it, in order to keep him from tapping him on the head with the wand, "There's something I need to ask you first. Harry told me once that he asked the Sorting Hat _not_ to put him in Slytherin…and he wound up being put in Gryffindor; if he asked the Hat to _NOT_ put him in Slytherin, then why did it?"

"There is a very simple answer to your question, Ronald," the headmaster said, "Mr. Potter made no such request of the Sorting Hat."

"What? But…"

"This is the point where our worlds diverge, Mr. Weasley," Dumbledore explained sagely, "On your world, young Harry Potter voiced his preference to not be a Slytherin to the Sorting Hat. On this world, he remained silent and allowed the Sorting Hat to go with its first choice."

"…" Ron was speechless, his mouth gaping open, unable to believe everything hinged on one little choice that Harry failed to make in this universe.

Dumbledore looked at Ron tiredly before speaking, "Now, if you are quite ready, there are more memories for you to experience."

"Wait! I have another question!" Ron exclaimed, sinking down into the chair to avoid the headmaster's wand.

Dumbledore sighed, placing his wand in his lap and folding his hands as he waited patiently, "Very well, Mr. Weasley; ask your question and I shall endeavor to answer to the best of my ability."

"Why didn't you do anything when Harry was being attacked by Malfoy and the other Slytherins at night in their dorms?" Ron asked with narrowed eyes.

"Unfortunately, Ronald," Dumbledore began, sounding apologetic as if he'd already known what Ron was going to ask, "Such matters are to be dealt with by the individual Heads-of-House. Professor Snape chose not to bring the matter to my attention; as such there was nothing I could do."

"But Snape HATES Harry!" Ron shouted, moving forward as if ready to spring up out of his chair, "Of course _he_ didn't put a stop to it!! He was probably hoping that Malfoy would go ahead and _kill_ Harry!!!"

"_Professor_ Snape may have issues with Mr. Potter, Ronald, but I trust him to keep the students in his charge safe from harm," Dumbledore said this in a very kind, soft voice, but there was something about the statement that told Ron that what he said was irrefutable.

Ron shook his head in bewilderment; Dumbledore's faith in Professor Snape was well-known, and it looked like it extended to this world as well. There seemed to be nothing that Snape could do that would shake Dumbledore's confidence in him, and Ron found himself hoping that there would never come a day when the headmaster's faith would be proven to have been misplaced.

"So, you don't believe that Snape knew about Harry being attacked?" Ron asked, incredulous at the headmaster's insistence on trusting someone so obviously evil.

Dumbledore sighed heavily and reached out to place a hand on Ron's arm, "Ronald, please…it's _Professor_ Snape; I must insist that you show your instructors their due respect." Once that was said, Dumbledore sat back in his chair, frowning, "Without evidence that Professor Snape _allowed_ Harry's beatings to occur, I am forced to give him the benefit of the doubt. Now, if you don't mind, there is more for you to see, and we really are running out of time."

"I just don't understand how you can let that stuff happen to Harry," Ron said, sitting back and folding his arms, "I mean, he's your favorite student…you've always looked out for him before!"

"Alas," Dumbledore began, shaking his head sadly, "I fear Mr. Potter and I do not have the same relationship here that we have on your world, Ronald. I had once hoped that we would be close…but that was not to be."

"So, you let Harry go on getting beatings from Malfoy because you just don't _care_ about him!" Ron yelled, his face red with anger, no longer caring that he was disrespecting the school's headmaster.

"Ronald, please calm yourself," Dumbledore said frowning, "Mr. Potter and I may not have the close relationship of which you're familiar, but that does not mean I do not care. As headmaster of this school, I have the best interests of all my students at heart…even Mr. Potter's."

Ron looked away, slightly embarrassed. All of his expectations were based on his experiences back in his own dimension, and at every turn this universe he was in seemed to disappoint him. He didn't think he'd ever get used to this crazy, mixed up world.

"Mr. Weasley, I am sure that I will fail to measure up to your standards where Mr. Potter is concerned," Dumbledore continued, starting to look a bit put-out, "But please remember that this is not the world you are used to, and many things will seem completely foreign to you."

Ron nodded in agreement; no truer statement had ever been made. This entire universe seemed alien to him, and the worst part was that he didn't even know why he was here.

"Professor, what am I doing here?" Ron asked bluntly for the second time that night, "You said this world needs a Ron Weasley…but why? All I am is Harry Potter's useless sidekick; what possible good could I be to anybody here?"

"I promise, Ronald, all _will_ be made clear eventually," Dumbledore said remaining as vague as before; the look on his face was prompting Ron to believe him, "For now, we must continue with the memories."

"Fine," Ron sighed, getting comfortable, "Let's get it over with."

Dumbledore nodded and reached towards Ron with his wand once more. He tapped Ron on the top of his head again, and as it had before, the world went black and Ron's mind swirled with colors as he was thrown into the memories of his dead counterpart one more time.

"You're lying!"

"I am not!" Ron found himself looking at his sister Ginny as she had appeared around the time of her First Year at Hogwarts. She was obviously distressed over something, as her ears and cheeks were flushed a tell-tale Weasley red, and her brown eyes flashed angrily, "You don't know him, Ginny!"

"Harry Potter's the Boy-Who-Lived!" she snapped at him, "He beat You-Know-Who when he was a baby…he's a hero!!"

"Listen to yourself, Gin," Ron said bitterly, "He was a _baby_! _He_ didn't do it on purpose…it was some sort of accident. He got lucky. Trust me…he's not a hero like you're making him out to be. He's a Slytherin for Merlin's sake!"

"That's why you don't want me to go near him, isn't it?!" Ginny said accusingly, "You don't like him because he's a Slytherin! Well, I don't care about that!"

"Of course you don't," Ron replied, his bright blue eyes turning dark, "You're just some stupid little girl who's had Mummy tell her one too many bedtime stories about the Boy-Who-Lived and you've gone all mental over his legend!"

"I have not…" Ginny countered, but her voice was soft and weak and lacked conviction.

"I met _the real_ Harry Potter," Ron went on, "Trust me, he didn't summon his Mum's wand to him at the last minute and cast a silent shield spell that was so powerful it deflected the Killing Curse…that's all a load of rubbish. He's just a scared little bloke trying to get by in Slytherin."

This was an unfamiliar memory for Ron; he was obviously at the Burrow during his summer holiday, but he'd never had this conversation with his little sister before. Obviously his twelve-year-old counterpart was trying to protect his little sister; something Ron could relate to. Harry Potter wasn't the hero his sister had been crushing on her whole life…he was just a boy, as frail and imperfect as anyone else.

"You're lying…" Ginny gasped, tears welling up in her brown eyes.

"No I'm not, Ginny," Ron said harshly, "This isn't some stupid game that we play out in the garden; Harry Potter is not going to come along and rescue you from You-Know-Who and then whisk you off to his castle and marry you! You'll see when you get to Hogwarts this year; Harry Potter isn't what you think he is."

"Ronald…Ginny…come on now, we're leaving!"

The sound of their mother's voice drew Ron and Ginny's attention and they rushed downstairs to the sitting room where Molly and Arthur Weasley stood by the fireplace waiting for them alongside Fred, George, and Percy.

"It's about time you two came down!" their mother chided them, "Diagon Alley is liable to be stuffed with people this time of day. Well come on…grab some Floo powder and let's be off! Arthur…we're running low; we'll need to buy some more today."

Each of the Weasleys took a handful of Floo powder from the flowerpot kept next to the fireplace, and in short order, the lot of them were making their way through Diagon Alley. The family separated, and the boys went off to explore the various shops while Ginny and her parents purchased her school supplies.

An hour later, the family met up at Flourish and Blotts to pick up the children's school books. Once inside the store, throngs of people – mostly middle-aged witches – stood in line to get the autograph of Gilderoy Lockhart, a media-hungry adventurer/author who just happened to be the new Defense Against the Dark Arts instructor at Hogwarts.

Ron was a little surprised to see Hermione Granger standing in line, looking all moony-eyed at Lockhart, but a greater surprise came when he saw the last two people he'd ever expect to see associating with one another walking around a large bookshelf together: Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy!

A sudden gasp from beside him told Ron that he wasn't the only one to spot the two Slytherins. He looked over and, sure enough, Ginny stood next to him, cauldron full of books in hand, gazing wide-eyed at Harry in a manner similar to the way Hermione Granger was looking at Lockhart.

"I can't believe your dad did that to Uncle Vernon," Harry was saying to Malfoy as the two of them came into listening distance of Ron and Ginny. The two Slytherin boys hadn't yet noticed the Weasley children standing there.

"You need to learn to put Muggles in their place, Potter," Draco replied with a sneer, "If some fat Muggle like your uncle tried to lock me away in a room, I'd have hexed him into oblivion."

"What are you doing with _him_?" Ron asked Harry loudly, motioning with his head towards Malfoy.

"That's none of your business, Weasley!" Draco snapped, jumping in-between Harry and Ron, "What Potter does with his _friends_ is none of your concern."

_"Friends?!"_ Ron was shocked as he watched his counterpart's memory, _"Since when are Harry and Malfoy _friends_?!"_

"Harry," Ron began in a pleading voice, pushing the blonde Slytherin out of the way, a bit more roughly than necessary, "What about all the times Malfoy and his goons beat you up?"

"Is this true, Draco?" The four children looked up at the sound of a new voice being added to the commotion; a sinisterly silky voice belonging to Draco Malfoy's father. "Did you accost young Mr. Potter?"

"It was nothing, Mr. Malfoy," Harry said quickly, stepping up to Lucius, "Just some horseplay that got out of hand."

"Weasley wasn't there, Father," Draco threw in once Harry had covered for him, "So he has no idea what really happened."

"I see," Lucius said, turning his cold grey eyes on Ron, "Young Weasley…trying to stir up trouble for your betters; like father, like son."

"I'd hate to think what that means for your _own_ son, Lucius," Arthur Weasley said, his voice dripping with venom as he walked up and put his hand on Ron's shoulder. Arthur glared hatefully at the other man who returned his glare with equal loathing.

"My son shall be raised in the lap of luxury, as befits a pureblood wizard of Malfoy lineage; while your brood," Lucius said with an oily sort of sneer as he reached into Ginny's cauldron and pulled out her tattered Transfiguration textbook, "Continue to linger in poverty, as befits a family of blood traitors."

There was a loud thud of metal caused by Ginny's cauldron full of books hitting the ground as Arthur lunged at Lucius knocking him to the floor as both men toppled over a rack of books. Inspired by his father, Ron threw himself at Draco Malfoy and the two of them were soon wrestling on the floor next to their fathers, throwing punches back-and-forth.

Harry looked a bit guilty at what was going on as he helped Ginny pick up the books that had spilled out of her cauldron. Ginny, meanwhile, merely gazed up at him adoringly with big doe eyes, making Harry look more than a bit uncomfortable.

In a heartbeat, the Malfoys and the Weasleys were forced to leave the bookshop. Mrs. Weasley looked quite indignant with her husband, and it wasn't hard to imagine that she would be giving him an earful quite soon.

"Mustn't forget your…book…little girl," Lucius said with a smirk, dropping Ginny's textbook back into her cauldron, "Having to replace it would surely break your father's fragile pocketbook."

_"That's when he did it,"_ Ron thought as he observed the scene playing out before him, _"That's when Malfoy slipped Ginny the Tom Riddle diary! Bloody bastard!"_

Mr. Weasley looked ready to attack Mr. Malfoy once more, but an angry glare from his wife had Arthur rooted to his spot, shooting a death glare at his longtime nemesis. Malfoy smirked at the sight of Arthur being cowed by his wife before turning and gathering Harry and Draco before him.

"Come Draco…Mr. Potter…I do believe it's time we bought those new racing brooms you've been clamoring for," Malfoy said loudly as they left.

"What good's it going to do if we can't get on the team, Father?" Draco grumbled in a typically spoiled manner.

"You never know what the future holds, Draco," Lucius commented as they faded into the crowd of Diagon Alley shoppers.

Harry followed the Malfoys closely, but cast a backwards glance at Ron and his family, looking a bit regretful for what had happened. Ron scowled and turned away, not wanting anything to do with Harry and his new _friend_.

_"I really do hate those Malfoys,"_ Ron thought as the memory started to fade and a new one began, _"It was nice watching Dad paste old Lucius in the eye, though. I could watch that every day! I wonder if Dumbledore will let me keep that part of the memory…"_

Another unfamiliar memory came upon him, and as soon as he saw that he was riding on the Hogwarts Express alongside Neville and Ginny, Ron wanted to cry foul. It seemed that all the cool things he had done since coming to Hogwarts – saving Hermione from a troll, beating a giant chess-set, flying a Ford Anglia all the way from London to the school – his counterpart from this world never even had the chance to do. Ron couldn't help thinking that _"this poor bastard"_ never did _anything_ notable.

"And you really let Malfoy have it, Ron?" Neville asked in a high, excited voice, absentmindedly running his hand down Trevor the toad's bumpy back, "Right there in the middle of Diagon Alley?"

"That's right, Nev," Ron said, beaming with pride, his second-hand rat, Scabbers, perched on his shoulder, "Right in the middle of Flourish and Blotts! I think I might have knocked a couple of his teeth out."

"Wow!" Neville exclaimed, looking at Ron with awe and admiration, "Wish I could have seen that!"

From across the compartment where she was furiously scribbling in some natty old book, Ginny scoffed, snorting in derision at Ron's boasting and Neville's unseemly, hero-worship.

"If you had, you'd have seen the lot of us getting chucked out of the shop; then you'd have seen our Mum yell at our Dad and then ground Ron for fighting!"

"Shut it, Ginny!" Ron snapped angrily, blushing at the mention of his punishment.

"He had to de-gnome the garden and muck out the hen house all by himself for the rest of the holiday," Ginny said in an annoyingly little sister sort of way.

Ron was so angry at her for revealing the details of his embarrassing (to him) punishment that he lunged at her – causing Scabbers to jump off his shoulder and cower on the seat next to Neville – and snatched the book out of her hand, intent on hiding it or possibly tossing it out the window out of a childish older brother style desire for revenge.

"Tom!!" Ginny screamed, looking frantic as Ron pulled the book from her grasp, "Give it back, Ron!!"

Ron and Neville exchanged a look, confused by Ginny's outburst and exclamation of the name _"Tom"_. Ron looked down at the book in his hands and started to flip through it.

"Who's _Tom_?" Ron asked, looking at his little sister, "And what _is_ this?"

"It's my diary, Ron!" the redheaded girl yelled hysterically, "Give it back!!"

"And who's Tom?" Ron asked again, shooting her a look, "He's not your boyfriend, is he Ginny? Merlin, you're too _young_ to have a boyfriend!"

Without awaiting her answer or asking permission, Ron opened the diary he'd just confiscated from his sister and began flipping through it, looking for some clue as to who this Tom bloke was. All he found, however, were pages and pages of old, blank parchment…all were blank, except the first page which bore the inscription _"T.M. Riddle"_.

"It's empty…except for some bloke's name," Ron said, stunned, flipping the book over, looking for some sort of explanation for the book to be blank when he'd _seen_ his sister writing in, with his own two eyes. The cover carried a date from some fifty years ago, but other than that and the name on the first page there was absolutely nothing to the book.

"Give it _back_!!" Ginny yelled jumping at Ron and violently ripping the book from him.

Ron looked affronted and angry at Ginny's actions, and Neville looked more than a bit terrified. He didn't know Ginny Weasley very well, but the one time he'd seen her prior to today – at King's Cross Station, alongside Mr. and Mrs. Weasley as they picked up her brothers at the start of the summer holiday – she struck him as a very quiet, shy girl. This girl, however, was nowhere close to quiet and shy…at least not now.

"Who's T.M. Riddle, Ginny?" Ron asked sternly, glaring at her, "Is that this Tom bloke you were talking about? If that's _his_ diary, what are you doing with it?"

"It's mine now!" she shouted, sounding every bit the petulant child, "So you leave it alone, Ron!"

"The bloody thing's fifty years old, Ginny; where did _you_ get it?" Ron said, moving towards her and causing her to hide the diary behind her back so he couldn't get to it.

"Mum bought it for me when she got our school books," Ginny said huffily, folding her arms across her chest, "And since Mum got it for me, you have no business taking it from me!"

"But, Ginny, why would Mum buy you some manky old diary?" Ron asked, perplexed. Sure, a lot of the stuff his parents bought them was second-hand, but surely something like a diary they'd buy new…wouldn't they? "And hang on, Ginny…if that thing belonged to this Riddle bloke, then why is there no writing in it…and what happened to what _you_ wrote in it?"

"I didn't write anything," Ginny lied unconvincingly, her cheeks tinged scarlet, "I was just pretending."

"Liar!" Ron snapped, moving over and trying to grab the book from behind her back, "Let me see it, Gin!"

"No, it's mine!" she yelled, kicking her brother in the shin, causing him to cry out in pain.

As he backed away from her for fear of another sudden attack, Ron gawped at his little sister like she was some sort of strange alien creature. "Ginny, what's gotten into you?!"

"Leave my diary alone!" his sister warned, shooting him an evil look.

"It's just a bloody diary!" Ron protested angrily, unaware of what she was getting so upset…and violent…over, "You haven't even written in it yet!"

"Maybe it's magic."

Neville's words had been spoken so softly and quietly that Ron and Ginny barely heard him, but they did, indeed, hear him, and when they did Ron looked at Neville as if he was a genius, while Ginny shrank away from them both, clutching the book tightly to her.

"Neville, you're right!" Ron exclaimed, looking over at his round-faced friend, "It could be magic, and it could be dangerous!!!"

"Dangerous?" Neville gulped.

"That's stupid!" Ginny snapped defensively, clutching the diary all the more tightly to her, "Books can't be dangerous!"

"Didn't you ever listen to Dad's stories about stuff the Ministry's confiscated?" Ron asked harshly, glaring at his sister, "There was a book that burned your eyes out. And everyone who read _Sonnets of a Sorcerer_ spoke in limericks for the rest of their lives. And some old witch in Bath had a book you could _never stop reading_! You just had to wander around with your nose in it, trying to do everything one-handed. And --…"

The sound of the door to the compartment sliding open cut Ron short and drew his attention to the four boys standing in the doorway, their blonde-haired leader swaggering into the compartment with a snide look on his face.

"Well, look what we have here," Malfoy said with a sneer, "Two Weasels and a Lardbottom!"

Two of the boys behind Malfoy – the large, gorilla-looking ones – chuckled at Malfoy's comment. The other boy – the dark-haired, bespectacled one – looked a bit uncomfortable with the confrontation he knew was coming.

"Sod off, Malfoy!!" Ron shouted stepping up to get into Malfoy's face, "Before I give you more of what you got in Diagon Alley!"

"You'll pay for that, you blood traitor!" the blonde Slytherin hissed, his cold, grey eyes glaring daggers at the freckle-faced boy in front of him, "Crabbe, Goyle…get him!"

Before Ron could react, Malfoy's two goons sprung into action; lumbering through the doorway and grabbing Ron, they hauled him bodily across the compartment and shoved him hard against the window. When he attempted to yell in protest, Crabbe shoved his forearm against Ron's throat, cutting him off with a choking gasp.

"Hey! Let him go!!" Neville yelled, jumping up and trying to come to his friend's aid. Goyle, however, grabbed Neville, and soon he too was shoved up against the window with a beefy forearm pressed against his windpipe.

"Get out of here," Ginny said, sounding as menacingly as an eleven-year-old girl could, storming across the compartment to get up in the Slytherin's face, "Or you'll regret it."

"Oooooh," mocked Malfoy, causing Crabbe and Goyle to guffaw stupidly, looking back over their shoulders to watch the scene unfold, "Do you hear that, lads? The Weaselette wants us to leave. We don't _want_ to leave, do we?"

Crabbe and Goyle continued laughing in a thuggish manner, indicating that, no, they didn't want to leave just yet; they weren't through with their fun. Ron tried his best to break free of Crabbe's grasp but to no avail. He had to settle for glaring murderously at Malfoy and his two goons and at Harry Potter, who stood outside the compartment, uncomfortably watching the proceedings, doing nothing to put a stop to it.

"I'm warning you," Ginny said, still trying her best to sound threatening.

The threat, however, only made Malfoy laugh harder. "Warning _me_? No, I'm warning _you_! You and your family of blood-traitors better learn your place! You're a disgrace to purebloods everywh—AHHHHH!"

Malfoy cried out in pain as Ginny reared back and kicked him in the shin with even more anger and more force than she had when kicking Ron earlier. The Slytherin Second Year responded by pushing her away from him so hard that Ginny stumbled backward and fell to the floor, dropping her precious diary as she did.

The sneer on Malfoy's face, revealing the pride and pleasure he felt at knocking the younger girl down, faltered as he saw the book that had fallen from her grasp.

"Where did you get that book, you little thief?!" Malfoy barked, advancing towards the diary as if to grab for it.

"It's mine!" Ginny cried, diving onto the book and covering it with her small body.

"Liar!" Malfoy accused, standing over the redheaded girl, making her tremble in fear, "It's my father's! I've seen it in his…his library!" It was fairly obvious that Malfoy didn't want to reveal where he had _really_ seen the book. "Wait 'til Father learns that your family is made up of thieves as well as Muggle-lovers! I bet he can convince the Minister to sack your fool-of-a-father!"

Ron had been struggling the entire time, trying to get free so he could help his sister, but at Malfoy's disparaging comments about his family, Ron re-doubled his efforts to get free. But it was no use; Crabbe held him in such a way that only the tips of his toes were touching the floor. He didn't have the leverage to break away. Ron looked to see if Neville was faring any better only to find his friend turning purple from the way Goyle held him off the floor by his neck.

"I didn't steal anything!" Ginny sobbed, no doubt afraid that her father would, indeed, lose his job because of her.

Malfoy's cold grey eyes sparkled with glee as he terrorized the youngest member of the family his own family hated the most. His gleeful expression disappeared quickly, however, as his newest "friend" decided to intervene.

"Draco, come on," Harry urged, stepping up and putting a hand on the blonde boy's shoulder, "The food trolley lady's coming; we need to go before we get in trouble."

"Coming to the Weasels' rescue, eh Potter?" Malfoy snapped, glaring at the black-haired boy, "What's the matter…is she your girlfriend?"

"It isn't like that and you know it, Draco," Harry said sternly, "Just grab your dad's book and let's go!"

Whether it was out of fear for her father losing her job or just awe at the fact that Harry Potter was touching her, Ginny didn't resist in the slightest when he crouched down and took the diary from her trembling fingers.

Ron's vengeful gaze was locked on Harry as he bent down to retrieve the book for fear that his former friend was going to hurt his sister. Harry was a Slytherin, after all, and Slytherins could not be trusted. The moment he touched the book, Ron noticed Harry stiffen slightly as though shocked by something. It lasted only a moment, and when it was over Harry looked perfectly normal.

"I've got the diary," Harry said to Malfoy, making his way out of the compartment without further ado, "Let's go, Draco."

"This isn't over," Draco threatened as he followed Harry out of the compartment.

Once the brains of the operation was gone, Crabbe and Goyle shoved Ron and Neville hard against one of the bench seats, causing them to lose their footing and collapse onto the bench; the two Slytherin gorillas then scurried out of the compartment after their leader.

"Alright there, Gin?" Ron asked, his voice a hoarse croaking murmur thanks to Crabbe's abuse of his windpipe. He knelt on the floor next to his sister and she immediately moved against him, crying on his shoulder.

"You were right," Ginny sobbed into Ron's maroon jumper, "You were right about Harry Potter."

_"What the Hell was _that_?"_ Ron wondered at Harry's momentarily odd reaction to picking up the diary, _"Did the book possess Harry the way it did my world's Ginny?"_

Ron was left pondering that very question as the memory faded around him and a new one swam into focus. It was a variation on one of his own memories from early in his Second Year. Unsurprisingly, Neville was right beside him, as he had been in so many other memories.

"What a phony!" Ron grumbled as he walked away from the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. The Second Year Gryffindors had just finished their first class with Gilderoy Lockhart. The narcissistic D.A.D.A. professor had just unleashed a host of Cornish pixies on the class and then run off once they got out of hand. Ron was absentmindedly rubbing the spot on his ear where one of the vicious little pixies had bitten him. "Can you _believe_ him? Setting those things loose and then scarpering off!"

"Be glad they didn't hang _you_ from a chandelier," Neville said, blushing a bit, "Why is it always me?"

"Just lucky, I reckon," Ron quipped, slapping Neville on the back, drawing a half-hearted chuckle out of his friend.

"He just wants to give us some hands-on experience!" a familiar voice called from behind them.

Ron and Neville turned around and came face-to-face with Hermione Granger. Ron rolled his eyes and snorted derisively at her, while Neville smiled awkwardly at the bushy-haired girl, as if he knew this was going to end badly.

"_Hands-on_?!" Ron scoffed, mocking her and her _I'm-better-than-you-are_ attitude, "He's a complete fake! He didn't have a clue what he was doing!"

"Rubbish!" Hermione shot back, her brown eyes flashing dangerously, "You've read his books – look at all the things he's done –…"

"What he _says_ he's done!" Ron snapped.

"Scoff all you want," Hermione replied, pushing past him, her nose in the air, "But I, for one, believe him."

"You fancy him!" Ron laughed accusingly, "I thought only _old witches_, like my Mum, fancied Lockhart!

"You're just jealous!" Hermione rounded on Ron angrily, stomping her foot for emphasis, "He's done so many great things and _you_ will never amount to _anything_!"

Ron's mouth dropped open and he gaped at Hermione, stunned by her accusation. Having sensed victory in their argument, apparently, Hermione turned on her heel and stormed off towards her next class.

"She was out of line," Neville said, coming up and putting a hand on Ron's shoulder, "Don't let her get you down. We need to go before we're late…"

Ron and Neville resumed their journey to their next class, but their pace was decidedly slow and measured; the wind had most assuredly been taken out of Ron's sails and he was in no hurry to reach his next class where he would once again be in the presence of Hermione Granger.

_"Bloody prat deserved to be taken down a peg,"_ Ron grumbled, thinking of his young counterpart and the way he'd mistreated this world's Hermione,_ "Still…to see her defending that manky git, Lockhart…completely mental, that."_

Ron's vision began to blur and soon the image of the stonework of the hallway faded completely and was replaced by blue skies and the green grass of the Hogwarts Quidditch pitch. Ron found himself walking down to the pitch, early in the morning, with his brothers, Fred and George, the Gryffindor team's Beaters.

"Now, remember, Ronnikins," Fred began, using the nickname that always infuriated his little brother, "Wood is a bit paranoid…"

"So mind yourself, little brother…" George added, picking up where his twin brother left off.

"And don't do anything dodgy…" Fred continued, winking at his twin.

"That'll make Wood think you're a spy," George finished.

"I'm not a spy!" Ron said, insulted by such an insinuation, "All I want to do is watch you blokes practice."

"You know you're not a spy…" Fred said as they reached the pitch.

"And we know you're not a spy…" George continued.

"But Wood's a bit mental, you see," Fred explained as Ron prepared to take a seat in the bleachers, "And he takes his job as Quidditch captain seriously…"

"Too seriously…" George added.

"Too seriously," Fred agreed, "And he doesn't want anyone from another House getting a look at the plays he spent all summer working on."

"Especially the Slytherins," George added, once more, as if to explain their captain's almost obsessive desire for secrecy.

"_Especially_ the Slytherins," Fred agreed, nodding, "Since we play them next."

"It's going to be tough hiding things from the Slytherins," Ron said, pointing at a spot over Fred and George's shoulders, "Since they're already here."

Fred and George turned around and sure enough, there in the middle of the Quidditch pitch were a group of boys dressed in green and silver robes and there was Oliver Wood arguing with their leader.

"What the bloody Hell are they doing here?" Ron asked as he glared at the mob of green-robed Quidditch players across the field. The animosity between Gryffindor and Slytherin was legendary, and Ron Weasley seemed more than willing to participate in fomenting the conflict between the two Houses.

"I don't know, but Wood doesn't look happy," Fred said as they continued toward the confrontation going on in front of them.

"Which means _we're_ not going to be happy," George added, knowing that whatever upset the Gryffindor captain could _not_ be good for the Gryffindor team as a whole.

The three redheads rushed over to where the rest of the Gryffindor team was squaring off against the Slytherin team. Oliver Wood was face-to-face with Marcus Flint, scowling as the somewhat trollish boy pulled out a rolled up piece of parchment.

"Ah, but I've got a specially signed note from Professor Snape," the leering Slytherin was saying as the Weasleys arrived in the middle of the confrontation. Flint then began reading the note aloud to his archrival, "_'I, Professor S. Snape, give the Slytherin team permission to practice today on the Quidditch field owing to the need to train their new Chaser and Seeker.'_"

"You've got new players?" Wood said, distracted by the pronouncement from the Potions Master, "Where?"

Out from behind the five larger boys came two smaller, younger boys; one had blonde hair and a pale, pointed face, and the other had dark hair and glasses. It was Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter.

_"There they are, together again,"_ Ron said to himself as he watched the memory play out, _"Thick as thieves."_

"Hey, Ron," Fred said, nudging his little brother, "Isn't that Lucius Malfoy's son?"

"Yeah, the one you beat up in Flourish and Blotts?" George added, grinning.

Ron nodded, causing the Gryffindor team to chuckle at the image of the pointy-faced young Slytherin getting what-for in the middle of the Diagon Alley bookshop. Draco, however, didn't find it the least bit funny and began scowling and glaring murderously at the youngest Weasley boy.

"Funny you should mention Draco's father," Flint said, ignoring the implied insult aimed at his newest Chaser. Knowing where their captain was heading, the rest of the Slytherin players started smiling smugly, "Let me show you the generous gift he's made to the Slytherin team."

All seven of them held out their broomsticks. Seven highly-polished, brand-new handles and seven sets of fine gold lettering spelling the words _Nimbus Two Thousand and One_ gleamed under the Gryffindors' noses in the early morning sun.

"Very latest model; only came out last month," said Flint carelessly, flicking a speck of dust from the end of his own, "I believe it outstrips the old Two Thousand series by a considerable amount. As for the old Cleansweeps," Flint said as he smiled nastily at Fred and George who were both clutching Cleansweep Fives, "Sweeps the board with them."

None of the Gryffindor team could think of anything to say for a moment. Malfoy was smirking so broadly his cold, grey eyes were reduced to slits.

"Oh look," said Flint, "A field invasion."

Coming across the field, toward the assemblage of Quidditch players…and Ron…was Neville Longbottom and Hermione Granger. Ron's eyebrows furrowed as he looked angrily at his best friend.

"What is _she_ doing here?" Ron asked Neville, nodding towards Hermione.

"I couldn't help it," Neville said, blushing, "She was in the common room when I came down from the dormitory. She asked me where I was going so early, and when I told her I was coming to watch Quidditch practice, she just started following me."

"I have just as much right as you do to watch the Gryffindor team practice their Quidditch," Hermione stated, sounding completely out-of-place talking about Quidditch, but still managing to do so in a huff.

"You don't even _like_ Quidditch!" Ron said accusingly, "Why don't you just go back into the castle?!"

"Yes, Mudblood," Malfoy said with a hateful sneer, "Why don't you just run along back to the castle?"

The Slytherin team – with the exception of Harry, who looked rather confused – laughed at Draco's comment which made the pale, blonde boy's sneer turn into a malicious grin. The Gryffindors, meanwhile – again, with the exception of Hermione, who looked just as confused as Harry – became indignant.

"How dare you!" Alicia Spinnet yelled.

Flint had to dive in front of Malfoy to keep Fred and George from jumping on him. The rest of the Gryffindors were up-in-arms as well, and it looked as though a riot was about to break out amongst the two Quidditch teams.

"I'd expect something so disgusting to come out of your foul mouth, Malfoy," Ron said, moving around Flint to get a look at the blonde boy who was doing his best to hide from the wrath of the Gryffindors.

"What do you care, Weasley?" Malfoy replied with his usual snide smirk, "You don't even like Granger. I've seen the fights you have; I'm surprised _you_ haven't called her a Mudblood yet!"

"It doesn't matter if I hate her," Ron said angrily, "I'd never call anybody that…not even a hateful little rat like you!"

Before Malfoy could respond to Ron's comments, the redheaded boy turned his attention to Harry who was standing just behind Draco, still looking a bit confused…and more than a trifle scared that the situation was going to get way out of hand.

"Nice choice of friends, Harry," Ron snapped at the dark-haired boy, "I can see how a bigot like Malfoy is a much better friend to have around than someone like me."

"Mind your tongue, Weasley," Malfoy hissed, reaching for his wand.

"You don't know what you're talking about, Ron," Harry said, sounding more than a bit put-out by Ron's comments, "You don't even _know_ me anymore, Ron, so just butt out and leave me alone."

Ron looked at Harry, stunned for a second by the Slytherin boy's bluntness. His look of shock quickly changed, however, to one of anger and Ron turned on his heel and stormed off back towards the castle.

"Ron…wait up!" Neville called, running to try and keep up with the angry redhead, huffing and puffing as he did. Ron stopped abruptly, giving Neville the chance to catch him up, "Don't…let…him get to you!" Neville blurted out around gasps for air.

"I could care less about Draco Malfoy and Harry bloody Potter," Ron snapped, turning to face his hyperventilating friend. When he did, he saw the bushy-haired Hermione Granger rushing to catch up to the both of them. He glared angrily at her and shouted at her as soon as she came near them, "What do _you_ want?!"

"What did he mean?" she asked, looking at Ron, "What did Malfoy mean by _'Mudblood'_?"

"You mean, you don't know?" Ron scoffed, laughing derisively, "I thought you knew everything!"

"_I_ never claimed to know everything," Hermione corrected him, haughtily, "_You're_ the one who's always calling me a _know-it-all_. So what does it mean? Obviously, it's something bad by the way everyone reacted back there."

"Mudblood is a really foul name for someone who is Muggle-born – like you," Ron said, crossing his arms over his chest as he explained why she ought to feel insulted instead of merely curious, "It's about the most insulting thing that albino rat could think of to call you."

"Some wizards think they're better than everyone else because they're purebloods," Neville said, finally catching his breath, "Wizards like the Malfoys. It's a really disgusting thing to call someone."

"It means you have 'dirty blood'," Ron continued, still scowling, "That you have 'common blood' and aren't deserving of being a witch or wizard."

"It's stupid, really," said Neville, "Look at me…I'm a pureblood and you're _much_ better at magic than _I_ am! Ron, too, probably."

"Speak for yourself, Neville," Ron shot back, eyeing his best friend sternly, causing the round-faced boy to quail and look apologetic.

"That explains why Malfoy thought _you'd_ be calling me a Mudblood," Hermione said, finally speaking up now that she was brought up to speed, "You hate me at least as much as Malfoy does; so go on, then…say it. Call me a Mudblood."

Ron snorted at Hermione and smirked sardonically at her, "First of all, Granger, we hate each other! Second of all, my family are blood-traitors, so the Malfoys of this world hate me just as much as they hate you! And thirdly, I wouldn't call you a Mudblood even if you were a stinking Slytherin like Malfoy and Potter!"

With that said, Ron turned back around and made his way off towards the castle. Before he got out of earshot, however, Ron was pretty sure he heard Hermione asking Neville what a 'blood-traitor' was.

_"Well, I hate to say this," _thought Ron as the memory started to fade, _"But I was almost afraid that Malfoy was right, and that this ruddy bastard would call Hermione a Mudblood just as readily as that albino ferret would; nice to see that we share the same disgust for that word…even if _this_ Ron Weasley is still a right tosser."_

The memory of "the Mudblood Incident" faded away into nothingness and in the span of half-a-second, a new memory formed in Ron's mind's-eye, where he found his young counterpart racing down stone steps to the dank dungeons beneath Hogwarts castle.

Ron rounded the corner, entering the dungeon corridor leading to the Potions classroom; he was running late, so his temper was already raised, knowing Snape would likely deduct House points for his tardiness, as well as slap him with a detention. So, what he saw when he entered the corridor had his blood practically boiling.

Standing before him was his sister, Ginny, and Harry Potter; Ginny had Harry pressed up against the wall with her fists gripping twin handfuls of his robes, tears pouring from her eyes as she pleaded with him.

"Please, Harry; I want my diary back. Can't you please give it back?"

"It isn't yours, Ginny," Harry said in a voice that completely lacked compassion, "You don't belong down here, so you'd better run along before something happens to you."

"It was mine for almost a whole month," Ginny cried, continuing to plead with the Slytherin boy, "I wrote in it every day! Please…I want Tom back!!"

"Well, Tom doesn't want _you_ back," Harry said, harshly, pushing her away from him, "He's found someone _better_ to communicate with; someone who _isn't_ a Muggle-loving blood-traitor!"

Having seen and heard enough, Ron intervened. Pulling out his wand and pointing it at the dark-haired boy, Ron yelled _"Recedibus"_; a bright flash flew from his wand and hit Harry in the chest, and an unseen force stopped him in his tracks and pushed him up against the wall, holding him there.

"Stay away from my sister, Potter!" Ron growled as he strode up to the bespectacled boy, "I'm only going to warn you once." Harry looked like he wanted to say something, but just settled for glaring at his redheaded assailant.

"Ron!" Ginny yelled, slapping her brother in the arm, "What are you doing?!"

"What's it look like, Ginny?" Ron yelled back, "I'm protecting you!"

"I don't _need_ your protection!" she all-but screamed, tears still running down her freckled cheeks, "I was just talking to him."

"Yeah, about this bloody Tom Riddle bloke!" her brother retorted, glaring at her, "I don't know who he is, or why you're so obsessed with him, but if you don't stop this rubbish, I'm going to owl Mum and Dad about it!"

"Don't you dare, Ron!!" Ginny screamed, turning and running away from her brother, back the way he had come. She turned to face him long enough to yell a warning at him before rounding the corner and leaving his line of sight, "Stay out of my life, Ron!"

Before Ron could chase after her, though, there was a sudden sharp, nasally sneer from behind him, "Weasley!!"

Ron turned around to see the annoyed-yet-greasy-looking countenance of Professor Severus Snape barreling down on him. His stringy black hair hung limply from his head, and his pointed goatee quivered a bit as he walked; both brought the paleness of his sallow face into sharp relief.

"Fifty points from Gryffindor and a week's detention!" Snape hissed as he came to a stop next to Ron, grabbing the back of his robes as if he planned to drag him away.

"What? What for?!" Ron bellowed, forgetting, for a second, who he was addressing.

"Twenty-five points for being late to class," Snape drawled, smiling spitefully at the red-haired boy, "And another twenty-five points for creating such a commotion in the hall that I had to stop teaching and come out here to shut you up."

"And the detention?" Ron growled, folding his arms across his chest. He knew better than to expect a fair shake from Professor Snape; he was such a slimy git.

"I doubt that Potter, here, did this to himself," Snape replied in a smarmy tone, "Dueling in the halls is strictly prohibited; you're lucky you're not being expelled."

"He deserved it! He was attacking my sister," Ron said, giving a somewhat skewed version of what happened.

"Ah, yes…Miss Weasley," Snape smiled like the cat-that-ate-the-canary, "Thank you so much for reminding me. Be sure to inform your sister that she, too, has cost Gryffindor fifty points for being late and disrupting my class."

"But that's outrageous!" Ron exclaimed, causing Snape's smile to become a predatory sneer.

"Would you prefer one hundred points each?" the oily professor asked, his voice full of menace, "Now, get to class; and when your spell wears off, Potter can join us."

"You're not going to help him?" Ron asked, shooting Snape a confused look. The Potions Master had always seemed to hate Harry, despite him being a Slytherin; and this just seemed to be further proof that he did, indeed, despise the Potter boy.

"If Potter can face down the Dark Lord and survive, then counteracting _your_ spell should be no great feat. Now, go!" Snape roughly pushed Ron down the hall, sending him on his way to the Potions classroom.

Ron looked back over his shoulder one last time before joining the rest of his class in Potions; he watched for a few moments as Snape sneered nastily at Potter before turning with a flourish of black robes and making his way back towards his classroom, prompting Ron to hurry inside and take a seat.

_"Can't believe I cursed Harry,"_ Ron thought as the memory started to fade, _"Well…not _me_…I mean…_this Ron_…but still…what is up with Harry? Did Riddle's diary get to him?"_

Once again Ron's vision blurred and then came into sharp focus as one memory shifted into another. This new memory found Ron…or, rather, his young counterpart…walking down the marble staircase towards the Great Hall. Christmas decorations were up, though there were far too many students around for this to be the Christmas holiday.

Neville, as usual, was by his side and so many other students – all of them Second Years – were making their way towards the castle's dining hall that Ron thought this must be a memory of something that had happened at meal time. He was wrong.

"Do you think this will really help, Ron?" Neville asked nervously as they made their way down the steps.

"I doubt it, Nev," Ron scoffed, "Lockhart's a poncey git; and I don't think whatever he could teach us about dueling would help us against whoever petrified Colin and Filch's cat."

"Do you think they're really going to close the school?" Neville looked more than just nervous, now; worry lines creased his forehead. It was a look that was reflected in Ron's own face.

"Merlin, I hope not!" Ron averred, running his fingers through his hair, "I hope they can find the Chamber of Secrets before the ruddy Heir of Slytherin attacks again."

As the mass of students entered the Great Hall, Ron could see that this memory that he had slipped into was, in fact, Gilderoy Lockhart's Dueling Club. Professors Lockhart and Snape put on a slight dueling demonstration which quickly left Lockhart laid out by a well-aimed Disarming Charm from Professor Snape.

With the demonstration over with, the students were split up into pairs to practice amongst themselves. As the dueling practice commenced, chaos reigned amongst the pairs of students as spells were fired off left-and-right.

When the dust had settled from the initial round of practice dueling, several of the Second Year students were battered, bruised, and bloodied – and poor Neville lay on the ground alongside Justin Finch-Fletchley, asphyxiated by whatever noxious green cloud Neville had managed to summon.

"Perhaps I'd better teach you how to block unfriendly spells," Lockhart said as he surveyed the results of the students' first practice duel, "Let's have a volunteer pair – Longbottom and Finch-Fletchley, how about you --…"

"Bad idea, Professor Lockhart," Snape said, "Longbottom causes devastation with the simplest of spells. You'll be sending what's left of Finch-Fletchley up to the hospital wing in a matchbox. Perhaps we should try a pair from my own House; Malfoy and Potter, perhaps?"

"Excellent idea," Lockhart said with a smile, gesturing for Draco and Harry to move to the middle of the Great Hall where everyone could see them.

However, before they could take their place, Malfoy leaned in and whispered something in Harry's ear, all the while keeping his cold grey eyes locked on Ron. Harry must have liked whatever it was that Draco said to him, because he nodded his head as a small smile tugged at his lips.

_"What the bloody Hell are they up to?"_ Ron wondered as he watched the two Slytherins sharing some sort of secret.

Ron became even more curious when Malfoy crossed over to Snape and whispered something to him, as well. The black eyes of the Potions Master seemed to light up and the corners of his mouth twitched as if he were suppressing a malicious smile.

"Mr. Malfoy has had an…interesting…idea," Snape said with a leering smile, taking his time to drag out his words, no doubt for dramatic effect, "Perhaps it would be more…educational…to see how two different Houses are progressing in spell usage; Slytherin against Gryffindor…for instance."

"Wonderful!" Lockhart exclaimed and began looking at the assembled group of Gryffindor Second Years, "Who shall it be then, eh? How about the brilliant Miss Granger?"

"I was thinking more along the lines of…Weasley," Snape sneered, looking at the red-haired boy, "No doubt he and Mr. Potter will make an interesting pair."

"Very well, then; Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley…if you will, please…" Lockhart motioned for Ron to move to the center of the room.

At Professor Lockhart's prompting, Ron and Harry each made their way to the center of the Great Hall to a cacophony of cheers, boos, and catcalls from the various other assembled Second Years.

Malfoy was looking on with an expectant smirk, as if he were waiting for Ron to be hexed into oblivion. A quick glance at the Gryffindor portion of the room found Neville looking nervously at Ron with his fingers crossed.

_"Leave it to Neville to show such confidence,"_ Ron thought, amused.

"Now, remember proper dueling etiquette," Lockhart said to the two boys in front of him, "Bow to your opponent, and then assume the proper combative posture."

Neither Ron nor Harry wanted to bow to the other, so each boy gave a slight, curt nod of the head before quickly adopting the customary wand-out dueling stance. Lockhart smiled winningly at the boys before addressing them again.

"On the count of three," he went on to say, holding up three fingers to punctuate his statement, "Cast your spells – to disarm, only. Ready? One…two…--…"

Before Lockhart could finish his three-count, something was spoken in a drawling whisper, and a bright light flashed across the room and hit Ron in the chest, causing him to stumble backwards a few paces.

"Hey!" Neville yelled, his outrage overcoming his usual shyness.

"That was completely unfair!" Hermione Granger shouted, glaring at the laughing Slytherins across the room.

"Foul! Foul!" Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnegan shouted together.

"Sorry about that," Malfoy laughed from his position several feet behind Harry, "My wand got away from me."

When the spell had hit him, Ron felt as though he were hit in the head with a saucepan – a sensation he had become familiar with one afternoon at the Burrow when he swore at his twin brothers in front of his mother. He recovered from the spell quickly, though, and ignoring his _actual_ opponent, Ron turned his attention to the wickedly grinning rat-faced blonde.

"Eat slugs, Malfoy!" Ron yelled, motioning with his wand towards the Slytherin troublemaker. A jet of green light flew out of his wand and hit Malfoy, knocking him to the ground and wiping the smile off his face.

"Hey!!" Harry yelled, sounding even more outraged than Neville had been when Malfoy had blindsided Ron, "_Rictusempra!_"

A blast of silver light jetted out of Harry's wand and hit Ron in the stomach, doubling him over and making him wheeze as he tried to catch his breath. Ron then began laughing uncontrollably, as he felt as though a thousand fingers were tickling him all at the same time.

The assembled Slytherins behind Harry began laughing at Ron and cheering for Harry, but soon their cheers turned to sounds of disgust and revulsion as, with a loud, wet, retching noise, Malfoy vomited up a large slug that fell from his mouth and hit the dining hall floor with a slimy _plop_! Malfoy's slug-vomiting provided enough of a distraction that Ron was able to recover from his bought of tickle-induced laughter and cast another spell at Harry.

"_Tarantallegra!_" Ron yelled, aiming his wand at Harry's knees. The dark-haired Slytherin immediately began dancing about, his legs moving rapidly in some sort of quickstep.

"Stop! Stop!!" Lockhart yelled as things got out of hand. He moved between Ron and Harry, looking at them and somehow scolding them while still flashing them his winning smile, "I said _disarm only_! And Mr. Malfoy, don't think your interference will go unpunished. I'd say a night's detention helping me answer my fan mail ought to do."

"I'll discipline my own students, if you don't mind," Snape said, leveling his cold, icy gaze at Lockhart. He then turned his attention to Harry, "_Finite Incantatem!_" The spell affecting Harry ceased and he immediately stopped dancing.

"As for you, Weasley," Snape continued, now turning his attention to Ron, "I'd say a week's detention should help teach you to attack innocent students."

"What?!" Ron exclaimed incredulously, "That wanker attacked _me_ first!"

"And twenty-five points from Gryffindor for language," Snape added, sneering smugly at the redhead, "Have you anything else to say, Weasley?"

There was a chorus of outraged voices coming from the Gryffindor side of the room, but Ron said nothing, merely setting his jaw and glaring at the Slytherin Potions Master. Once he was sure the hotheaded boy had nothing more to say, Snape grabbed Malfoy by the arm and escorted him out of the Great Hall, the sounds of retching and wet _plops_ following them as they left the dining hall.

_"That greasy-haired git!"_ Ron growled as the memory started to fade to black. He had no love for the Snape in his own universe, and it was obvious that the Potions Master was a universal constant – he was a biased arse in either universe. _"And that manky little beard makes him look like even _more_ of a git!"_

When the darkness cleared, Ron was once again ensconced in a new memory. It was night, and the castle was dark and relatively quiet. The quiescence, however, did nothing to soothe the bitterness of his young counterpart as the memory unfolded.

"Bloody Snape and his barmy detentions," Ron groused as he made his way along the Second Floor corridor towards one of many suits of armor he had been ordered to clean – without the aid of magic, using only a toothbrush and a bottle of Polishing Potion.

The Potions Master seemed to take great joy in assigning Ron detentions, whether something was his fault or not. This particular detention was a perfect example of Professor Snape's unfair punishment practices.

They had been brewing Pepper-Up Potion in Snape's class, and as usual Neville was Ron's partner. Ron had gone off to the supply cupboard for some dried fairy spleen, and while he was gone, Malfoy had managed to slip some blowfly eggs into Neville's cauldron; the potion promptly exploded.

Neville had lost twenty-five points for Gryffindor, and would be in the hospital wing for the rest of the week while his nose grew back. And since Neville was in no condition to serve a detention, Ron received a week's worth, both to take Neville's place – since they were partners – and for not playing close attention to what was being placed in his partner's cauldron. Malfoy, on the other hand, had gotten off with a mild scolding.

_"Try not to blow Longbottom's nose off next time, Mr. Malfoy,"_ Snape had said. That wasn't even so much a scolding as it was poorly disguised encouragement.

"Stupid ruddy bat," Ron grumbled, cursing Snape, "I'd like to blow _his_ nose off!"

Ron had just reached the suit of armor he was supposed to scrub clean when something else caught his attention. Down the hall, a door opened and Harry Potter came walking out into the hallway, looking around him suspiciously, as if he were worried that someone might see him.

This may have been due to the fact that the door he had just come through led to the girls' lavatory. Ron smirked devilishly when he realized where Harry had come from, and he couldn't resist the urge to wind the Slytherin up.

"Do _all_ the Slytherin blokes use the girls' loo, or is that just _your_ little secret, Potter?"

Harry turned on his heels to face Ron, glaring at the Gryffindor boy now that he realized he was there. He caught sight of the toothbrush and cleaning potion Ron was holding, and his angry glare turned into a wicked smirk worth of Malfoy.

"I didn't realize Dumbledore hired a new janitor," Harry joked nastily. Almost imperceptibly, Harry began tucking a beat-up old book into the pocket of his robes. "Enjoying your detention this week, Weasley? I'd have thought by this point you'd just _stop_ coming to Potions altogether, just so you could avoid even the _chance_ of getting detention."

"Not all of us are willing to just roll over and give in to the Slytherins," Ron countered, folding his arms across his chest.

"Is that what you think I did?" Harry asked archly.

"You tell me," Ron said smugly.

"You do realize I _am_ a Slytherin," Harry replied, "Or are you so thick that you forgot?"

"I didn't forget!" Ron assured him, losing his temper a bit when Harry called him thick, "I just seem to recall you being Malfoy's whipping boy last year, and this year you're his best mate!"

"That really isn't any of your business, is it?" Harry retorted, his eyes flashing angrily. For a second, the torchlight in the corridor must have played oddly against Harry's glasses, because it seemed as if his green eyes had turned red, "I was sorted into Slytherin; I could either whinge about that, or accept my lot in life and learn how to get along as a Slytherin."

"Well, congratulations, Harry," Ron said scowling, "You've done a great job of becoming a Draco Malfoy clone."

"I told you before to leave me alone, _Ron_," Harry replied, imitating Ron's use of his own first name, "You don't know me; you don't know what I'm capable of."

Without another word, Harry turned and made his way down the corridor, around a corner, and out of sight. Ron stood there for several moments, watching the way that the dark-haired boy went, but eventually turned back to the job at hand: polishing yet another suit of armor.

"Stupid Snape and his stupid detentions," Ron grumbled.

Ron was so wrapped up in cleaning the suit of armor and cursing the school's Potions Master that he didn't realize that he wasn't alone in the hallway until he heard a hissing noise behind him.

Looking up, Ron caught the reflection of something large in the breastplate of the suit of armor he had been polishing. The reflective surface of the armor distorted the image of whatever loomed behind him, but the eyes were distinct; so distinct that as soon as his own blue eyes met the reflection of those yellow eyes, everything went black.

_"What the Hell…?!"_ Ron called out as darkness engulfed him. Had he…or rather _his counterpart_…just been attacked by the Basilisk? Ron could hardly believe any of this. It was all so daunting; so overwhelming. Did Harry do this? All signs seemed to point that way. And what was Harry doing in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom carrying Riddle's diary? Was he down in the Chamber of Secrets? _"This is all so bloody confusing!!"_

When the darkness faded, and Ron found himself thrust into yet another memory; one that found him lying in bed looking up at a cracked white ceiling. There was a smell in the air that made him think of Greenhouse Three where they'd had Herbology classes throughout most of the year. He started to sit up, and suddenly Neville was there, smiling broadly at him.

"Ron!! You're back!!" Neville gushed, jumping up and down, squeezing his toad, Trevor, in a manner that made the poor amphibian's eyes bulge even more than usual, "The Mandrake Draught worked just like they said it would! Welcome back!!"

"What am I doing in the hospital wing, Neville?" Ron asked, looking around at the white-painted walls that, now that he was sitting up instead of lying back, he readily recognized.

"Oh, right! You wouldn't know, would you?" Neville blushed embarrassed that he was going on and on about something his friend was still in-the-dark about, "You were petrified."

"I was --…bloody Hell, the eyes!!" Ron exclaimed, recalling the last thing he remembered before everything had gone black.

_"Better me than Hermione,"_ Ron sighed, thinking back to his own Second Year and the horror of seeing his best friend lying in a hospital bed, stiff as stone, cold, unbreathing. It was something he never wanted to see again.

"Mind your language and your yelling, Mr. Weasley!" Ron's outburst drew an irritated retort from the school matron, causing him to quail slightly.

"What happened, Neville?"

"Well, Mr. Filch found you in the Second Floor corridor, lying on the floor near a suit of armor…next to your broken wand," Neville explained, backing away slightly, knowing what was coming next.

"My wand!" Ron yelled, ignoring the school nurse's reprimand, "My Mum is going to kill me. That wand was my brother, Charlie's old wand."

_"The wand was rubbish anyway,"_ Ron quipped, thinking back to how _he'd_ broken his when he crashed his father's flying car into the Whomping Willow.

"I saved the pieces for you, if it'll help," Neville said shyly, "I put them in your trunk."

"Thanks, Neville," Ron said with a half-smile. It _wouldn't_ help, but it _was_ a nice gesture; and maybe, just maybe, his mother would be too happy that he was actually _alive_ to scold him too much for having gotten the old wand broken. "Now, finish telling me what happened…"

"Right…so, you were petrified, and they brought you up here to wait for the Mandrakes to mature enough to make the potion that could wake you up. Professor Sprout was brilliant; she --…"

"How long was I out for, Neville?" Ron asked, looking around. It had been the middle of January the last he knew, and the sky was grayish white and desolate, but outside now, the sky was blue with large puffy white clouds that reminded Ron of a heaping plate of mash; so much so that his stomach gave an almighty growl, alerting everyone within earshot as to its emptiness.

"A few months," Neville said, looking around nervously. He knew his friend was hotheaded, and he wasn't sure how Ron would react to the news that he'd been lying in a hospital bed like a statue for nearly half-a-year.

"Months?!" Ron yelled, his eyes going wide. He startled Neville so much that he nearly dropped his toad, "What day is it?!"

"It's the fourteenth of June, Mr. Weasley," Madam Pomfrey said, coming over to examine him, "And I'd appreciate it if you'd stop being so loud. Not everyone has awakened yet."

"June?!" Ron's exclamation was made in the louder whisper Neville had ever heard, "I missed six months of classes?"

"Afraid so," Neville said bashfully, "Exams, too."

"Wicked!" Ron smiled.

_"Lucky blighter,"_ Ron chuckled.

In no time, Ron was granted a clean bill of health by Madam Pomfrey and he and Neville were shooed out of the hospital wing so the nurse could tend to her other patients who were due to wake from their "slumber" any time now. The two Gryffindors made their way down towards the Great Hall, as the Leaving Feast would be starting soon.

"So did they find the Chamber of Secrets?" Ron asked, once they were clear of the hospital wing and his outbursts were less likely to get him scolded, "Did they find the Heir of Slytherin?"

"I don't know about the Heir," Neville said as they exited the Fourth Floor corridor and began the trek downstairs to the dining hall, "But Harry Potter found the Chamber of Secrets!"

"Potter?!" Ron exclaimed, stopping mid-stride, "You're joking! Where is it?!"

"No one will say, of course," the round-faced boy replied, shrugging, "I reckon Professor Dumbledore doesn't want anyone else going in. But Potter found it and stopped whatever was petrifying people."

"Did they say what it was?" Ron asked, understandably curious as the memory of those yellow eyes flashed to the front of his mind.

"Something called a basilisk," Neville said with a shrug, "Nobody but Potter actually saw it."

"What's a basilisk?" Ron asked, shooting a confused look at Neville who shrugged again. Neither boy had noticed that they were no longer alone on the stairs until a new voice rang out.

"A basilisk is a giant poisonous snake whose gaze can kill," Hermione Granger rattled off as she scurried to catch up to the boys, after overhearing their conversation, "They are only controllable by Parselmouths and can grow to be very, very old."

"How do you know that?" Ron asked, shooting a disgruntled look at the bushy-haired girl over his shoulder.

"I read about it in a book," Hermione said, her chin in the air defiantly.

"Yeah? Well, Miss Know-It-All," Ron said, once again displaying his dislike for the girl, "If its gaze can kill, then how come none of us died?"

"I don't know," she replied, looking down at her feet, "The book didn't say. I'm sure there's some sort of explanation…perhaps the basilisk didn't look directly at you, or --…"

"Who cares," Ron cut across her, waving a dismissive hand at the girl, "All I care about is that I'm alive."

"You _should_ care!" she snapped, "You're not curious about how you managed to survive something that should have killed you?"

"No, I'm not," Ron stated flatly, "But feel free to run along to the library to figure it out for yourself!"

Huffing at the ill-tempered redhead and stomping her foot angrily, Hermione turned on her heel and made her way back up the stairs, away from the two boys. Neville sighed and shook his head as he watched the girl retreat.

"What?" Ron asked, shooting a disgruntled look at Neville.

"Nothing," Neville said, shaking his head tiredly.

"Anyway, back to the basilisk," Ron said, resuming his journey down the stairs, "Did they say what happened to it?"

"It's dead now, according to Potter," Neville replied, falling into step next to Ron once more, "Said he blasted it to bits with his wand."

_"Why is it that I don't believe _this_ Harry actually killed it?" _Ron growled inwardly, as he watched the memory play out, _"The _real_ Harry needed Gryffindor's sword to kill it. I can't believe this one was able to do it with a wand."_

"Well, bloody good for Potter," Ron said, sourly, "Guess he's the hero of the day, yeah?"

"Pretty much," Neville said, nodding vigorously, "Slytherin won the House Cup thanks to him."

"Those bloody tossers!" Ron exclaimed in aggravation, "That's two years in a row!"

"The whole lot of them have been unbearable for months," Neville said sadly, "Caught Crabbe and Goyle trying to boil Trevor in a cauldron during a Potions class last month. Snape took away twenty points for me having a live animal in class…then he threatened to dissect Trevor and use him for potion ingredients!"

"Ruddy good-for-nothing Slytherins," Ron grumbled.

"Actually, Weasel, we're good for _something_."

As they reached the bottom of the marble staircase in the castle's entrance hall, Ron and Neville ran into four of the last people they'd ever want to see: Potter, Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle. They were leaning against the stone wall, as if waiting for someone.

"Seems the Slytherins are good enough to save the school and all the students in it," Malfoy said, grinning smugly, "So maybe you and your fat friend should show us some respect and tell my friend Potter, here, _thank you_ for saving your worthless lives."

Ron moved towards Malfoy, his blue eyes flashing dangerously; it was obvious that Ron didn't care _how_ many Slytherins Draco had backing him up. He grabbed the blonde boy's robes and shoved him hard against the wall, getting up in his face.

"I'd sooner _die_ than thank a Slytherin for anything!"

"Be careful what you wish for, Weaselbee," Draco sneered, "You just might get it!"

The memory started to fade away, leaving one thought foremost in Ron Weasley's mind: _"I think I know who killed this world's Ron Weasley…"_

**-- End Chapter 6 --**

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**Author's End Notes****:** Well, there you have it: Chapter 5. Has anything been made clearer, or is it becoming more and more muddled, hmm? Feel free to leave a review and let me know how I'm doing, or to ask any questions you might have about this or any previous chapters. You can ask about upcoming chapters, too, but don't count on me to answer _those_ questions! ;-)

A quick note about a spell cast by Ron against Harry during the scene outside the Potions dungeon: **Recedibus** (pronounced ray-kay-DE-boos) is an original spell created by my very favorite Beta Reader, **CutewithAcapital-Q**, herself. The Latin base, _recedi_, means "to retreat, recede, withdraw", and this spell of Her Royal Cuteness' creation produces a short-lived force-field that can stop a person and keep them at arm's length. Only a temporary measure, to be sure, but it was designed to be something a Second Year student might know.

I'm usually against using anything that isn't a spell that has already appeared in the source material of the various _HARRY POTTER_ books, but this idea of Cute's was too good to pass up. Besides, since the spell was cast on Mirror!Earth, who's to say it's not something taught in the parallel universe?

Next chapter, we'll be finding out what happened to Mirror!Ron during his Third Year at Hogwarts, and how things were different than they were in _Prisoner of Azkaban_. Check back in two weeks for Chapter 6...provided I can work through my writer's block!

~Hawk!

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	6. Reflections of You and Me

**AUTHOR'S NOTES:** Well, has everyone enjoyed their two month holiday from reading this story? I know I have! (No, I haven't.) I decided to put this story on hold while I took a nice around-the-world holiday. (I'm totally lying.) I visited the British Isles (I wish!), Spain (yeah, right), Greece (pfff!), and even Egypt (NOT!). Man those pyramids are impressive! (They are, but I've only seen 'em in pictures and on TV and in movies.) I went interesting places (no I didn't), I saw interesting sights (didn't do that either), and I met interesting people (lies, lies, LIES!). I figured you'd all understand if I took a much needed vacation. (Which I totally didn't take.)

Okay, so the Blackhawk World Tour is a complete fabrication. I just simply could NOT get this chapter done! Please don't think I spent the last two months sitting around mindlessly wanking instead of working on this story. I agonized over this thing, and the later it became, the more I agonized! I worked on it every single day, but sometimes the work was negligible. It wasn't until recently that the writing spark came back to me and I was able to complete the chapter.

That being said, I really don't know if this will be any good. I'm not even sending it to my beta to read first because if I do, I just KNOW there will be a ton of revisions she'll suggest and I just want this dead albatross out from around my neck!! I want it away from me! I just finished typing this up in the wee hours of the morning last night an my first thought...beyond sleep...was getting this out there and posted so you people could read it. Hopefully it doesn't suck too bad...

No shout outs this time around...but if you've ever sent me a review, know that I thank you vigorously.

**DISCLAIMER:** J.K. Rowling owns the Harry Potter characters.

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**_MIRROR, MIRROR  
_Chapter 6  
**"**Reflections of You and Me"**

As the memories of Second Year faded into those of Third Year, Ron found himself walking down the corridor of the Hogwarts Express alongside Neville. They were searching for an empty compartment, but they were all full except for one near the back of the train which, conveniently enough, had two seats unoccupied.

"We might as well sit in here," Neville said, reaching for the door to the compartment only to be stopped by Ron's hand grabbing his wrist in a death grip.

"Let's find something else," Ron urged, glaring through the glass partition into the compartment. Inside, on one of the bench seats was a man sitting fast asleep next to the window; next to him, already dressed in her Hogwarts robes, her nose buried in a weighty tome, sat Hermione Granger, "I don't feel like spending the next seven hours stuck in a train car with _her_."

Neville sighed and shook his head, "She's not that bad, Ron…maybe if you took the time to --…"

"We've been through this before, Neville," Ron said curtly, cutting across his friend.

"Fine," Neville conceded, sighing again, "But look…every other compartment is full! Where else are we going to sit?"

"Fine," Ron growled, slamming the door open and stomping into the compartment, dropping into the seat next to the window, across from the sleeping stranger.

The sound of the slamming door startled Hermione and she glared at Ron as she looked up from her book. When she saw Neville make his way into the compartment and take the seat across from her, her features softened and she smiled.

"Hello, Neville," she said sweetly, "How was your summer?"

"Oh…uh…it was good," Neville replied, feeling a little uncomfortable with the obvious tension in the compartment, "My Gran and I spent a week in Ireland, visiting an old friend of hers."

"Oh, that sounds…interesting," Hermione said, obviously lying in order to be nice, "I went on holiday to France with my parents; it was wonderful…full of wizarding history."

"That's great," Neville replied, nodding. He cast an awkward glance over at Ron who was glaring out the window at the passing scenery, as if to ignore them, "Uh…did you know Ron's family went to Egypt over the holiday…?"

"Yes, I saw that in _The Daily Prophet_," Hermione said, sounding as though she were trying _not_ to sound interested. She turned to Ron, a scowl threatening to appear on her face, "How _was_ Egypt?"

"Hot and sandy," Ron grunted, not even bothering to look back at her.

"Charming," Hermione said with a grimace, turning her attention back to Neville.

Ron was trying purposely to _not_ look at Hermione; she was looking very tan from her holiday in France and found himself trying to remember _why_ he hated her, while watching her reflection in the window.

Time seemed to tick by rather slowly, and Neville's mouth opened and closed as he was, apparently, grasping for something to say to break the once-again uncomfortable silence the compartment had slipped into; however, it was Ron who spoke up first.

"So, who d'you reckon _he_ is?" Ron asked Neville, pointing at the sleeping man sitting next to Hermione. The stranger was wearing an extremely shabby set of wizard's robes that had been darned in several places. He looked ill and exhausted. Though quite young, his light brown hair was flecked with gray.

"Professor R. J. Lupin," Hermione answered at once, even though the question wasn't aimed at her. This earned her yet another glare from Ron.

"How'd you know that?" Ron asked with more than just a wee bit of venom in his voice.

"It's on his case," she replied, pointing at the luggage rack over the man's head, where there was a small, battered case held together with a large quantity of neatly knotted string. The name _Professor R. J. Lupin_ was stamped across one corner in peeling letters.

"You always have to be such a know-it-all, don't you?" Ron spat hatefully. _Now_ he remembered why he didn't like her.

"Better a know-it-all than a _know-nothing_, like you!" Hermione retorted, just as hatefully.

"Can't you both please just _stop_?!" Neville yelled, jumping to his feet and startling his two bickering friends into silence, "I know you hate each other, but there's no place else for anyone to sit – so can't you both just get along until we reach Hogwarts…_please_?!"

"I will if _she_ will," Ron grumbled, folding his arms across his chest.

"_Me_?! You started it!" Hermione exclaimed, causing Ron to snort derisively at her.

"Does it _matter_ who started it?" Neville looked pleadingly at Hermione.

"Fine," she said, conceding.

The compartment fell once again into an uncomfortable silence. Hermione went back to reading through her overly large book while Neville began absentmindedly stroking his toad, Trevor. Ron turned his attention back to the window and the rain-slicked scenery whizzing past them. He kept glancing over at Hermione, and when she would look up, he'd quickly glance at the sleeping professor across from him, as if he were not entirely sure what to make of him.

Hours passed, and Ron was just about to nod off when he caught a sudden flash of orange out of the corner of his eye, and it drew his attention over to where a large ball of ginger fur was unfurling itself from between Hermione's feet, moving out from under her robes that had been concealing it to this point.

"What the bloody Hell is _that_ thing?" Ron exclaimed, pointing at the mass of nappy orange fur that leapt up onto the seat next to Hermione.

"It's a cat; what's it look like?" Hermione snapped with an annoyed huff.

"Looks more like a pig with hair," Ron said snidely, glaring at the girl as she scooped the huge feline into her arms and began stroking it affectionately. Ron reached down to the jacket pocket where his rat was securely tucked and patted it to make sure it was still there, "Just keep that bloody thing away from my rat!"

"Crookshanks will be in _my_ dorm," Hermione said scathingly, continuing to caress her immense cat in a loving manner, "Keep that shoe-brush-of-a-rodent in _your_ dorm and there won't be a problem."

Ron glared daggers at the girl, forgetting the affect she'd recently had on him, while once again patting the pocket where Scabbers was protectively tucked away, secure from the outside world. Hermione returned his glare, her chin raised defiantly. Silence fell over the compartment yet again as Ron and Hermione glared at each other unblinkingly.

"You don't think he'd eat a toad, do you?" Neville asked nervously, once the uncomfortably tense silence had gone on long enough. The round-faced boy pulled his toad, Trevor, closer to him as he eyed the massive cat in Hermione's arms.

"Probably," Ron said, hoping to get his friend on _his_ side, "That cat's a bloody beast!"

"Of course he won't, Neville," Hermione countered, ignoring Ron's comment, "Crookshanks is a good kitty and he wouldn't hurt my _friends'_ pets."

As if to prove Hermione's point for her, the great ginger cat squirmed free of her grasp and leapt across the narrow aisle to the bench-seat Ron and Neville were sharing. Completely ignoring the toad in Neville's hand, Crookshanks pounced on Ron's pocket, attempting to extricate the frightened old rat from inside.

"Crookshanks, no!!" Hermione screamed, jumping to her feet and trying to pry the cat off the angrily yelling redhead.

"Get this monster off me!!" Ron shouted, trying to push the cat away. Unfortunately, Crookshanks had set his claws securely into the material of Ron's coat and wasn't going anywhere, "He's trying to eat Scabbers! Get him off!!"

"I'm sorry!" Hermione cried, tears in her eyes as she did her best to restrain her cat from killing Ron's pet, "Crookshanks, let go!!! Please!!!"

The sounds of Crookshanks hissing and growling and the frightened squeaks of Scabbers mixed with all the yelling to form a horrible cacophony of sounds filling the train compartment. It was a wonder that Professor R. J. Lupin hadn't been awakened by the ruckus, but he continued to sleep unawares of the kerfuffle erupting around him.

It took several minutes and the combined efforts of Hermione and Ron to remove the hissing, spitting cat from the redhead's tattered, hand-me-down coat, resulting in a ripped pocket and a bloodied hand for the hot-tempered boy.

_"You should have let Crookshanks eat that bloody rat,"_ Ron grumbled to himself as he watched his young counterpart defending the traitorous Animagus, Peter Pettigrew, _"If the cat finished him off, then You-Know-Who wouldn't have come back and Cedric Diggory would still be alive…"_

"I'm sorry," Hermione sobbed as she pulled the howling, yowling cat away and dropped back down into her seat.

"Keep that bloody monster away from me!" Ron yelled, practically screaming at the brown-haired girl as he nursed his injured hand and clutched his rat protectively to his chest.

"I said I was _sorry_!" Hermione yelled back, tears falling down her cheeks, illustrating how horribly she felt about her cat's actions.

"If that thing comes near me and Scabbers again, I'll kill it!" Ron shouted, out of his mind with rage.

"He's a cat! What do you expect?!" Hermione shouted back, her eyes a mix of fear and anger.

"I expect --…hey!!"

The train came to a sudden jarring stop, nearly causing Ron and Neville – who had been cowering on the bench during the struggle with Crookshanks – to topple to the floor of the compartment.

"We've stopped!" Neville squeaked, "Why have we stopped?"

"We can't be there yet," Hermione replied, looking out the glass partition into the corridor where other students were popping their heads out of their compartments to look around, "We haven't been traveling nearly long enough."

Ron opened his mouth, about to say something snide to Hermione about her ability to state the obvious, when the lights onboard the train went out, plunging the compartment into darkness.

"Maybe the train broke down," Neville squeaked again, obviously unsettled by the sudden darkness.

"Perhaps someone should go and speak with the driver," Hermione suggested, obviously trying to maintain an air of calmness about her, despite a slight tremor in her voice revealing her fear.

Ron, meanwhile, was drawn to the world outside the window, where the rain-soaked gloom gave way to black shapes moving about the landscape towards the train, "I think someone's coming aboard the train," he gasped nervously.

Hermione stood up and moved towards the compartment door, opening it and poking her head out as she had seen other students doing before.

"There's someone moving along the corridor," she said, "They've just gone into one of the other compartments…"

There was suddenly yelling and an anguished cry from somewhere nearby. The sound sent icy fingers of fear traveling up and down his spine, and Ron couldn't help the slight tremor in his voice when he spoke.

"W-what _was_ that?"

"Someone's screaming," Neville said, his voice high-pitched in terror.

"But who is it, I wonder; perhaps we should go see," Hermione suggested, starting to move out into the corridor. Before the brown-haired girl could leave the compartment, however, she was stopped by a firm hand on her shoulder.

"Sit down and don't move," the formerly sleeping Professor Lupin hissed as he pulled Hermione away from the door and pushed her into her seat, "Under no circumstances are any of you to leave this compartment."

There was a soft, crackling noise, and a shivering light filled the compartment. Professor Lupin appeared to be holding a handful of flames; they illuminated his tired, gray face, but his eyes looked alert and wary.

Professor Lupin hurried into the corridor, the handheld flames illuminating his path in an eerie manner as he made his way to the compartment the train's dark intruder had entered. Despite the professor's warning, Ron, Hermione, and even Neville got up from their seats and pressed their faces against the glass partition, trying to catch a glimpse of what was going on.

Suddenly, there was an intense silvery flash, and the dark shape dashed from the compartment the professor had entered and fled from the train into the black, rainy night as fast as it possibly could. Moments later, Professor Lupin exited the compartment and began moving towards the front of the train.

"What the bloody Hell _was_ that thing?" Ron asked no one in particular.

"I think it was a Dementor," Hermione replied on impulse, not realizing that she was answering Ron's question.

"One of the guards of Azkaban…here?" Neville said, his voice still much too high in pitch, "What would a Dementor be doing here?"

"Looking for Sirius Black," Ron replied, looking over at the frightened boy, barely making out his round face in the darkness.

"That's ridiculous," Hermione scoffed; with the immediate danger past, she seemed more than willing to fall back into her antagonistic role with Ron, "What would Sirius Black be doing on the Hogwarts Express?"

"Looking to kill Harry Potter, I imagine," Ron said, shooting her a disgruntled look, "My Dad works for the Ministry…I heard him arguing with my Mum about it…she didn't want to send us back to Hogwarts this year with an escaped madman on the loose looking to get even with the bloody Boy-Who-Lived."

"I don't get it," Neville said, his voice losing some of its squeakiness, "Why would Black want to murder Harry Potter?"

"Revenge," Ron said flatly, "Black was the right-hand-man of You-Know-Who, and when Potter destroyed _him_, Black didn't like it, did he? Now he's escaped Azkaban and he wants payback for Potter killing his master."

"Surely Sirius Black wouldn't come to Hogwarts in search of revenge," Hermione said, trying to sound more confident than she obviously was, "With Dumbledore there, Hogwarts is just about the safest place in all of Britain; Sirius Black would have to be completely mad to go there!"

"I reckon twelve years in Azkaban took care of _that_, didn't it?" Ron said, almost forgetting to add a bit of snippiness to his tone towards Hermione, "Besides, he escaped from Azkaban, and that place is said to be inescapable; who's to say he couldn't sneak into Hogwarts the same way?"

Before another word, the lights on the train came on just as suddenly as they had been extinguished, causing Ron, Neville, and Hermione to jump slightly. Almost immediately, the train began moving again, slowly at first but gradually picking up speed.

Before the three of them could continue their conversation about Sirius Black, the compartment door opened and Ginny Weasley rushed in.

"Did you hear about Harry Potter?" Ginny asked, her face flushed with excitement.

"That he's a useless sodding git that we'd all be well rid of?" Ron shot back, eyeing his sister darkly. He didn't approve of her obsession with Potter, and he'd hoped that her run-in with him last year had cured her of it.

"No," Ginny replied, her tone showing she was not amused by Ron's comments, "I was sitting in the compartment across from Harry Potter and those other Slytherins he hangs out with…"

"Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle," Ron stated matter-of-factly, eliciting a nod from Ginny, confirming that, yes, those were the Slytherins she meant.

"Well, when the lights went out, something came onboard the train…" Ginny continued, only to be cut off by Ron.

"We _know_ all this, Ginny," Ron said, crossly, "It was a Dementor, looking for Sirius Black."

"Well, you great prat," Ginny snapped, shooting her brother an equally cross look, "Did you know that the Dementor went into Harry Potter's compartment and he started screaming and then passed out?"

"Why'd he do that?" Hermione asked, her brow furrowing as if she were trying to solve a puzzle.

"Because he's a delicate little poof," Ron spat, hatefully, "He probably took one look at that Dementor, screamed like a little girl, and fainted dead away."

"I don't blame him," Neville said, almost under his breath, "I bet there's nothing scarier than a Dementor…except maybe Professor Snape."

Ron snorted a laugh at Neville's comment and was about to respond when Ginny cut _him_ off this time.

"That Dementor was doing something to Harry, because all the other Slytherins were whimpering and carrying on," Ginny continued, "And then this man appeared and shot something silver out of his wand and made it scarper off."

"That's Professor Lupin," Hermione explained, in her best know-it-all voice, "The new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher."

"And how do you know _that_?" Ron asked, snidely, "Surely _that_ wasn't written on his ruddy suitcase."

"It didn't need to be; if you'd only use your _brain_ once in a while, you'd _know_ how I know," Hermione shot back, equally as snide to Ron as he'd been to her, "Defense Against the Dark Arts is the _only_ teaching position at Hogwarts that is vacant year after year, therefore…"

"I _must_ be the new D.A.D.A. teacher," Professor Lupin had come back. He paused as he entered, looked around, and said, with a small smile, "You really are quite clever, you know, Miss…"

"Granger," Hermione said, blushing, "Hermione Granger."

"I'll be keeping my eye on you, Miss Granger," Lupin said with a smile, "I'm sure I can expect great things from you…and from the rest of your friends."

Hermione and Ron looked to be about to correct Professor Lupin's mistake about them being friends, but he cut across them before they could.

"We'll be at Hogwarts in ten minutes, and I told the driver to make no more unscheduled stops. Now, if you will all excuse me, I think I shall make myself useful for the remainder of our journey by patrolling the corridors…just in case."

Once the professor had left the compartment, Hermione turned excitedly to her fellow passengers…though she made a point not to look in Ron's direction.

"It looks like this year we're going to have a _good_ Defense teacher for once!"

"He can't be too bright, though," Ron said, darkly, "If he assumed the two of _us_ were friends."

Neville groaned, and Ginny rolled her eyes, while Hermione glared hatefully at him and crossed her arms. Crookshanks, who had been all but forgotten in the confusion made his presence known once again, meowing loudly and locking his eyes determinedly on the quivering lump in Ron's pocket.

_"I know I can be a prat,"_ Ron thought back to his own Third Year as the memory started to fade, _"But even _I'm _not _that_ bad! This git needs to cut Hermione a break."_

As the memory of the train ride faded to black, a new one began swimming through Ron's mind. He was standing on the edge of the Forbidden Forest near a paddock set up a few minutes' walk from Hagrid's hut. The entirety of the Third Year Gryffindor class was there, as well as the Third Year Slytherins. When a herd of hippogriffs came into view in the pen, Ron recognized it as Hagrid's very first Care of Magical Creatures class.

"Hippogriffs!" Hagrid roared happily, waving a hand at them, "Beau'iful, aren' they?"

Ron cast a nervous look at Neville and the round-faced boy returned the look. The dozen horse/eagle _things_ Hagrid had in the pen might have been somewhat beautiful, with their gleaming coats, changing smoothly from feather to hair, but they were still quite intimidating and somewhat scary. After all, eagles were birds of prey, and the beaks and talons on these hippogriffs were larger even than the biggest of eagles'.

"So," said Hagrid, rubbing his hands together and beaming around, "If yeh wan' ter come a bit nearer…"

No one seemed to want to. Not even Hermione, who seemed incredibly intrigued by the magical creatures, was brave enough to move more than a few cautious feet closer to the fence. Behind the Gryffindors, the Slytherins could be heard making snide comments not only about the creatures but about Hagrid and his suitability and qualifications for being a teacher. As usual, Draco Malfoy was the most vocal, but if Hagrid heard him, the big man pretended not to.

"Now, firs' thing yeh gotta know abou' hippogriffs is, they're proud," said Hagrid, looking as nervous about teaching his first class as the students did about attending his first class, "Easily offended, hippogriffs are. Don't never insult one, 'cause it might be the last thing yeh do."

Ron could easily believe that a disgruntled hippogriff could end somebody. He planned to never insult one of the creatures…of course, if he could help it, he would never actually get close enough to insult one of the creatures. He gave a quick look at Hagrid and shook his head absentmindedly.

Ron's brother Charlie had been close to Hagrid, and considering Charlie's chosen profession, working with dragons, it's easy to see that he and the big, burly groundskeeper were kindred spirits. Even so, Hagrid intimidated Ron a bit, and he wanted to keep his distance. Sure, he was a nice enough bloke, but there were rumors about Hagrid that he didn't know if he should believe or not.

There was the one about Hagrid raising a dragon and letting it live somewhere in the Forbidden Forest. This was a bit hard to believe, considering that breeding and raising dragons was illegal, and Hagrid didn't seem like the kind of person to engage in illegal activities. However, at night sometimes, when he gazed out the dorm window in Gryffindor tower, Ron would swear he'd seen bursts of flame erupting into the night sky from somewhere in the forest.

There was also the fact that Hagrid had been arrested and sent to Azkaban last year. None of the staff would talk about _why_ he'd been arrested, but the rumors amongst the student body about Hagrid being the Heir of Slytherin flew quickly around the school, only quelling once Harry Potter found the Chamber of Secrets and stopped whomever or whatever it was that was petrifying the students…Ron included.

Hagrid had been released, though, so it's obvious that whatever he'd been accused of, he didn't actually do. Of course, that didn't make the huge man, who seemed to be about twice the height and five times the width of a normal man, any less intimidating.

"Yeh always wait fer the hippogriff ter make the firs' move," Hagrid continued, "It's polite, see? Yeh walk toward him, and yeh bow, an' yeh wait. If he bows back, yeh're allowed ter touch him. If he doesn' bow, then get away from him sharpish, 'cause those talons hurt."

There was some muttering at Hagrid's comment, and no one seemed to doubt that yes, indeed, the talons on a hippogriff would hurt.

"Right – who wants ter go first?"

The class backed farther away in answer to Hagrid's question. Even Hermione had misgivings, stepping back so fast that she stepped on Ron's foot causing him to yelp in pain and push her into Neville who stumbled a bit before steadying the both of them.

"No one?" said Hagrid, with a pleading look, "I'll have ter pick one'a yeh, then."

Hagrid furrowed his black, hairy brow and gave the class a once over, moving his beetle black eyes first over the Gryffindor group near the front before moving to the Slytherins in the back. His face dropped a bit and he shook his head slightly, looking somewhat sad. Ron looked over his shoulder to see what Hagrid's droopy look was about and found himself looking at Harry Potter joking around with Draco Malfoy.

_"Poor Hagrid,"_ Ron thought as he watched the memory pass by, _"He and Harry are so close…well…in my world, anyway. Hagrid must be really disappointed to see Harry a dyed-in-the-wool Slytherin."_

"How abou' you, Harry Potter?" Hagrid said, calling to the group at the very back of the Slytherin class.

There was scoffing and sniggering coming from the Gryffindors as everyone turned to face the boy Hagrid had singled out. Next to him, Draco Malfoy was scowling hatefully, and seemed to be whispering something to Harry. The bespectacled youth shook his head and faced Malfoy.

"No, I'll do it," Potter said, before glaring at the Gryffindors in front of him…especially Ron, "If I can kill a basilisk in the Chamber of Secrets, petting an overgrown chicken will be a piece of cake!"

The Slytherins around him began sniggering now and egging him on as he strutted towards the front, nudging Seamus Finnegan and Dean Thomas out of his way and fixing a stony glare at Ron and Neville before moving towards Hagrid.

The big man didn't seem to take kindly to Harry's _chicken_ comment, but he didn't do anything more than frown a bit. Hagrid always seemed to frown when he looked at Harry Potter.

Harry ignored Hagrid and the Gryffindors and climbed over the paddock fence.

"Right then," Hagrid said, "Let's see how yeh get on with Buckbeak."

Hagrid unclasped one of the chains, pulled the gray hippogriff away from its fellows, and slipped off its leather collar. The class on the other side of the paddock seemed to be holding its breath. Ron cast a glance back at Malfoy and noticed that he, surprisingly, looked worried.

"Easy now," Hagrid said quietly to Harry, "Yeh've got eye contact, now try not ter blink; hippogriffs don' trust yeh if yeh blink too much…"

Buckbeak had turned his great, sharp head and was staring at Harry with one fierce orange eye. "Tha's it," said Hagrid, "Tha's it…now, bow."

Harry grumbled something mutinous under his breath before he gave a short, curt bow and then looked up. The hippogriff was still staring haughtily at him. It didn't move.

"Ah," said Hagrid, sounding worried, "Right…back away, now…easy does it…"

Before Harry could comply, the hippogriff suddenly bent its scaly front knees and sank into what was an unmistakable bow.

"Well done!" exclaimed Hagrid, ecstatic, "Right…yeh can touch him! Pat his beak, go on!"

Harry Potter moved slowly toward the hippogriff and reached out toward it. The Slytherin boy nervously patted the beak several times and the creature closed its eyes lazily, as though enjoying it.

The Slytherins broke into applause and catcalls, and Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle seemed to cheer the loudest. The Gryffindors, however, didn't offer any such sort of congratulations to Potter. Hagrid ignored this as he continued dealing with Harry and the hippogriff.

"Righ' then…I reckon he migh' let yeh ride him!"

"What?!" Harry exclaimed, looking particularly put-out, "I'm not going to ride that thing!"

"Lower yer voice," Hagrid urged, motioning with his hands for Harry to keep it down.

Buckbeak seemed to get riled up again as Potter started yelling, but it was obvious to all the students watching that Harry Potter was either oblivious to the danger or ambivalent to it.

"Yeh have ter keep calm or yeh'll get 'im all worked up," Hagrid said trying to warn the excitable Slytherin who seemed to be having none of it.

"How can I 'keep calm' when you're trying to get me to _ride_ one of these monsters?" Harry shouted indignantly.

"They're not _monsters_!" Hermione yelled, taking a step forward. Ron and Neville both grabbed her – Neville took her upper arm and Ron nabbed her wrist – and held her in place lest she get too close to the riled-up hippogriffs. Hermione and Ron exchanged a look before both looked down at Ron's hand on her wrist and then jumped awkwardly apart.

"Mind your own business, Granger!" Harry Potter snapped, turning to aim an angry glare at the Gryffindor bookworm.

"Look out!"

The cry of warning had come from Hagrid and drew everyone's attention back to the large creature behind Harry Potter that was rearing up on its hind legs and kicking forward with the massive claws on its front legs.

Potter threw his arms up in front of him in a defensive gesture, protecting his face from the onslaught of the slashing talons. There was a horrified scream from one of the girls in the class and gasps of shock and surprise from the rest of the students as the hippogriff slashed at Potter's arms with its talons, knocking him to the ground.

"You stupid chicken…you've killed him!" Malfoy yelled, moving quickly towards the paddock fence.

Hagrid jumped between Harry Potter and Buckbeak, wrestling the hippogriff back into its leather collar as it strained to get to the Slytherin boy lying on the ground, curled up in the grass, blood blossoming over his robes.

Harry moaned in pain as he lay, holding onto his bleeding arm where a long, deep gash was visible beneath the torn sleeve of his robes.

"He's dying!" Malfoy yelled at Hagrid, "Look what you've done you great oaf!"

"Hey!" an indignant cry rose up from the ranks of the Gryffindors. Hagrid may be intimidating and have a poor sense of what is and isn't appropriate as far as pets are concerned, but he was a genuinely gentle soul and they didn't take kindly to Malfoy insulting him.

"He's not dyin'!" Hagrid said, looking down at Potter once Buckbeak had been restrained. Despite the assurance of his words, Hagrid's face had gone very white and it looked as if he wasn't quite sure what to do, "Someone help me…gotta get him outta here…"

Hagrid reached down and scooped Harry Potter up into his massive arms. Malfoy was too busy hurling insults at Hagrid to open the paddock gate for him, so Hermione ran over and did it.

"Wait 'til my father hears about this," Malfoy sneered as he followed Hagrid up the slope toward the castle, "You and Dumbledore will both be out of a job!"

Very shaken, the Care of Magical Creatures class followed behind Hagrid, Potter, and Malfoy at a walk; the Slytherins were very vocal in their condemnation of Hagrid, while the Gryffindors were equally vocal in their defense of him.

"You think Hagrid's going to be sacked for this?" Ron asked Neville on their way back to the castle.

"I hope not," Neville said, shaking his head and looking worried.

"That would be horrible," Hermione said from behind them, once again butting into a conversation that didn't involve her.

Ron turned on her and seemed about to say something hateful to her…as usual. Hermione seemed to be expecting it, too, as she lifted her chin defiantly and fixed him with a hard look. When Ron saw that she was on the verge of tears, however, he bit back his comment and simply replied, "Yeah…it would."

_"Hagrid,"_ Ron sighed as the memory started to disappear before his eyes, _"That poor bloke never seems to get a break. Of course, when he sees some bloody monster and tries to get us to cuddle it instead of run from it, what does he expect is going to happen?"_

A new memory sprang forth into Ron's head, and he found himself sitting in the common room of Gryffindor tower. Judging by the throng of students milling about, many of them leaving through the portrait hole talking excitedly about dinner, Ron figured the day's classes must now be over. Once he had that tidbit of information figured out, a new mystery sprung into his head: _why wasn't _Ron_ heading for dinner?_

"That girl is up to something," Memory-Ron muttered under his breath as he watched Hermione Granger ascend the girls' staircase towards her dormitory, ignoring the incessant growling of his empty stomach.

_"So that's why he's not going to dinner…he's taken up spying on Hermione,"_ Ron thought as he watched his thirteen-year-old counterpart's actions.

The younger Ron sat back in one of the squashy armchairs in the common room and kept his eyes locked onto the girls' staircase. Having lived with Fred and George for the last thirteen years, Ron knew a-thing-or-two about being sneaky, and Hermione Granger was definitely being sneaky.

For the last few weeks he had seen her walking to class, usually either right in front of, or directly behind him and Neville. Then, when class began, there was no sign of her.

The first time it happened, on their very first day, during their very first class – Divination – he had thought, perhaps, she had decided to skive off the class, despite how out of character that was for a know-it-all like her.

Then, suddenly, there she was…in class…seeming to have appeared out of nowhere when nobody was looking. Ron would have just marked it down to an odd occurrence and forgotten about it if it didn't keep happening.

Divination, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Potions, even Charms and Transfiguration; she'd pulled her disappearing/reappearing act in all of them. Odder still was that nobody but him seemed to notice; not the teachers, not the students, not even her supposed "only friend" Neville. No, the only one who seemed to be paying attention to Hermione Granger and her comings-and-goings was him.

Even today after she completely missed Charms class, no one seemed to notice that anything strange had been going on but him. She missed the Cheering Charms lesson and didn't show up for lunch, and when he returned to the tower after lunch, Hermione was sleeping at one of the tables in the common room, books piled up all around her. Something was going on.

_"And why the bloody Hell are you _paying_ such special close attention to her, you great ruddy git?"_ Ron pondered as he continued to play observer to his counterpart's memory, _"If I didn't know better, I'd say you liked her…"_

A sudden flash of orange coming down the girls' staircase drew Ron's attention. Crookshanks had just come down from his mistress' dormitory and was now making his way across the common room to the boys' stairs, unnoticed by almost everybody still in the common room.

The ginger cat hissed angrily as it stared up the stone staircase towards the dorm room in which Ron's rat, Scabbers, was currently residing. The fuzzy feline put one paw onto the boys' stairs and Ron sprang into action, frightening a group of First Years heading for the portrait hole.

"Get away from there, you bloody monster!" Ron yelled, lunging forward and grabbing a scarlet pillow off the couch. He flung the pillow at Crookshanks as hard as he could, walloping the cat and sending him dashing off towards the girls' staircase, yowling in disconcertion.

"Hey!"

Ron turned on his heel and saw Hermione crawling through the portrait hole, a bag full of books slung over her shoulder. The smile of satisfaction that lit Ron's face when he hit the cat with the pillow now faded as he saw the bushy-haired girl scowling angrily as she entered the common room, tucking some sort of necklace down the front of her robes.

"You leave Crookshanks alone!" Hermione yelled as she stomped over towards Ron, eyes blazing hatefully. The remaining Gryffindors in the tower took this opportunity to flea the common room, stampeding through the portrait hole before the battle began.

"How'd you _do_ that?" Ron asked, amazed. His eyes were wide as he looked from Hermione to the girls' staircase and back, "I _saw_ you go upstairs…I've been watching…you never came back down. How'd you leave the tower without me seeing you?"

The brown-haired girl's anger seemed to fade as her face flushed a deep rosy hue; she looked away from Ron and started fidgeting nervously, her hand seeming to want to grasp at the necklace she'd just hidden.

"You're…you're obviously mistaken," Hermione stammered, obviously lying, "How could I possibly be upstairs and outside the tower at the same time? Honestly, you must have fallen asleep or something and just didn't _notice_ me leaving. Yes, that's it…you were asleep; mystery solved."

"I didn't fall asleep," Ron growled. He could tell that she was lying to him, and that made him mad, "I was watching the stairs…I didn't take my eyes off of them until your ruddy cat came down and tried sneaking up to _my_ dorm to get at Scabbers!"

"You stay away from Crookshanks!" Hermione yelled, remembering her initial anger.

"He was on his way to eat Scabbers!" Ron shouted in defense of his pillow-assault on Crookshanks.

"And how was he going to open the door to your dorm room without _hands_?!" Hermione shouted back in exasperation, glowering at the boy with the, in her mind, irrational hatred of her pet cat, "Why can't you just leave him alone?"

"He wants…to eat…my rat!" Ron said, pausing dramatically after every other word for emphasis.

"He's…a…CAT!" Hermione all-but-screamed, stomping her foot for added effect.

"I don't care if he's the Muggle Queen of England," Ron roared, "Keep him away from Scabbers!"

"Fine!" Hermione shouted, stomping over and getting right up in Ron's face, standing nose-to-nose with him, speaking in a low, threatening voice, "But if you ever hit Crookshanks again, I'm going to hex you into next week!"

Watching the fire flare in Hermione's eyes, and having her so close to his thirteen-year-old counterpart, Ron found himself enthralled. The only positive thing about these fights he had with Hermione was being able to watch her get so worked up and to watch her smolder. It made him miss his world and his world's Hermione all the more.

This world's Ron seemed speechless, either from Hermione's threat or simply from her proximity. Whatever the reason, he had no reply for her, so she turned on her heel and stormed off up the steps to the girls' dorms, snatching her cat up off the floor and hugging him tightly as she went.

Watching her go, it was several moments before Ron realized that the argument about Crookshanks had completely distracted him from his original purpose: learning the truth about Hermione's disappearing act. Hearing the sound of her dormitory door slamming shut, Ron shook himself out of his reverie and vowed to get to the bottom of this mystery, one way or another.

_"The Time-Turner,"_ Ron thought as the memory began to fade, _"How is it I'm always the only one who notices when something's going on with Hermione? Even in this bloody world…?"_

The fading memory shifted, though the location remained the same, inside the Gryffindor common room.

"Oi, Weasley! Did you hear about your man Potter?"

"I already heard about him passing out in front of the Dementors on the way to Hogsmeade, if that's what you're talking about," Ron said, turning to look at Seamus Finnegan. Ron was in the middle of a game of wizard's chess with Neville when their roommate came through the portrait hole.

"I heard about that, too," Seamus laughed, shaking his head, "But this is about what happened with that hippogriff."

"Hagrid's not getting sacked is he?" Neville asked worriedly.

Ron and Neville…and some other interested Gryffindors who were listening in…looked expectantly at Seamus. The young Irishman shook his head.

"Apparently Potter got Malfoy's father to raise a stink with the board of governors about him being 'attacked' by what's-his-feathers and they got the Ministry to order the poor beast executed."

"How'd you find this out?" Ron asked, understandably curious.

"Granger was helping me with my Transfiguration essay in the library when Hagrid sent her an owl telling her all about it," Seamus explained as he dropped lazily into a squashy chair, "Once she read the note, she was too worked up to help me, so I left while she went off in search of Malfoy and Potter. Last I saw, she found them down on the Third Floor and was giving them a right vicious screaming-to."

"And you just left here there…_alone_?!" Ron asked, looking absolutely incredulous.

"I told her to leave well enough alone," Seamus said, shrugging, "But you know stubborn Granger is; she ignored me. What was I supposed to do?"

"You weren't supposed to just abandon her in front of a bunch of bloody Slytherins," Ron yelled, getting red in the face, "They're capable of anything!"

"Hark at you," Seamus scoffed, "We _are_ talking about the same person, yeah? Don't you _hate_ Hermione Granger?"

_"Seamus, you idiot!"_ Ron cursed his counterpart's roommate as he looked on helplessly.

Ron's face was red again, though this time it was from embarrassment, not anger, "Whether I like her or not, she's still a Gryffindor and Potter and Malfoy are still a couple of wankers who can't be trusted."

"She'll be okay, right?" Neville asked, his concern for Hermione clearly displayed across his face, "I mean, Slytherins are a bunch of slimy gits but they wouldn't hurt her, right?"

"I don't know, mate," Ron said, shaking his head as they left the common room through the portrait hole and hurried down the stairs, "You know how Malfoy hates Muggleborns…"

The two friends grew quiet as they rushed down the stairs, intent on reaching the Library before something unfortunate happened to their fellow Gryffindor. The reached the Third Floor landing and could hear shouting as they hurried down the corridor leading to the Library, hoping to reach the disturbance before it was too late.

"You foul, loathsome, evil little cockroach!" Hermione yelled as Ron and Neville rounded the corner. She reached back and punched Malfoy square in the nose, "Don't you _dare_ call Hagrid pathetic!! Buckbeak is a poor, innocent creature and your father got him sentenced to death!"

Ron and Neville stopped dead in their tracks, mouths gaping wide open, unable to believe that they had just witnessed Hermione Granger…paragon of following the rules…punching Draco Malfoy for all she was worth. Malfoy covered his face and backed against the wall, cowering before the frizzy-haired girl for a brief moment before shooting her a hateful sneer.

"Hit him again!" Ron cheered, moving in for a closer look.

Neville was right behind him, and while he, too, was glad to see her wallop Malfoy, he was less enthusiastic than Ron and much more wary of the other Slytherins standing there, no doubt ready to exact revenge for Malfoy's discomfort.

"Get out of here, Weasley…you too, Longbottom," Harry Potter yelled, pulling out his wand and stepping forward menacingly, "This is none of your business."

"Granger's a Gryffindor, Potter…that makes it our business," Ron replied coldly, pulling his own wand and facing off against the bespectacled Slytherin, "I suggest you run back to your dungeons before something bad happens to you."

Hermione and Malfoy seemed to have been forgotten by the five other boys as Potter, Crabbe, and Goyle squared off against Ron…and by default…Neville.

"I think it's going to be you that something bad happens to, Weasley," Potter threatened, his tone just as coldhearted as his gaze, "Just like last year."

Crabbe and Goyle chuckled at Harry's threat towards Ron and they cracked their knuckles in a fashion they must have thought was menacing in order to add emphasis to the dark-haired boy's words.

"I'm not afraid of you _or_ your goons, Potter," Ron said, his voice full of hate, "So save your threats for the ickle Firsties you like to bully."

"Heard you had a visitor recently, Weasley," Potter said, grinning evilly, "You must really be Sirius Black's type for him to risk paying you a visit in bed." Crabbe and Goyle laughed heartily at the implications in Harry's words.

_"Did Harry just call me a _poof_?!" Ron asked himself incredulously as he watched the memory play out._

Ron bristled at the implied meaning, gritting his teeth, "Maybe he was looking for you, Potter…maybe Black figured anybody who could run off You-Know-Who at the tender age of _one_ was a lock to be a Gryffindor instead of a dungeon-crawling Slytherin. 'Course, if he heard about the way the Dementors make you faint like a little old witch with the vapors, I reckon he'd realize he was mistaken about you having a Gryffindor's courage."

"You really believe that you Gryffindors are _better_ than us Slytherins?" Harry replied, getting into Ron's face…or, rather, attempting to get into Ron's face, since the redheaded boy was several inches taller than him, "Even though Slytherin won the Quidditch and House Cups for the last two years? And it was a Slytherin…namely _me_…who saved the entire school…twice. I certainly don't recall seeing any of _you_ underneath the Third Floor battling the Dark Lord or down in the Chamber of Secrets taking on the Basilisk!"

"And it's a Slytherin…_namely_ you…who put everyone in this school in danger from Sirius Black," Ron answered back acidly, "Dumbledore never should've let you come back this year. All you do is attract trouble and put those around you in danger."

"Considering the danger I put everyone in," Harry responded coldly, "You might want to mind your tone. You've no idea what I'm capable of."

Ron looked down at Harry, glaring darkly, "You can't intimidate me, Scar-Head, I know _exactly_ what you're --…"

"OW!! Get off me!"

The pained cry from behind them cut Ron off mid-sentence and drew everyone's attention back to Hermione and Malfoy, where the blonde-haired boy had a death-grip on the bushy brunette's wrist, looking about read to hex her into oblivion.

"This will teach you to lay your hands on me, you filthy little Mudblood!"

"Oi! Get off her, Malfoy!" Ron yelled, pushing past Harry.

"Leave me alone!" Hermione screamed, looking over her shoulder at Ron, "I don't need _your_ help!" Ron gaped at her, unable to believe the words coming out of her mouth; he had gone to the trouble of coming to her aid despite their hatefulness towards each other, and _this_ was her reaction?

"You here the Mudblood, Weaselbee," Malfoy drawled with a smirk, "She doesn't want your help…probably afraid poverty is contagious. So why don't you and Lardbottom just run along already?"

Ron made to lunge forward at Malfoy, but he immediately found himself restrained by the gorilla-like arms of Crabbe and Goyle. He looked over his shoulder and saw Potter holding Neville with his wand pressed against his neck uncomfortably hard.

"I think it's time we taught these Gryffindors to respect their betters…what do you think, Harry?" Malfoy laughed when he saw that he and his friends now had the upper hand.

Harry didn't have time to answer, however, as a new voice cut in causing Malfoy to look particularly disgruntled while causing Ron to breathe a sigh of relief…not that he had been worried.

"_I_ think it's time to break apart whatever this is I've happened upon before I'm forced to hand out detentions and deduct House points," Professor Lupin said in a very grave tone as he came around the corner looking more haggard than usual, "I can't imagine Professor Snape would be very happy to learn that half the Third Year Slytherin class had all wound up in detention with me."

"They started it when Granger attacked Draco," Harry complained, his green eyes flashing angrily, "We were just defending ourselves!"

"That may well be the case, Harry," the D.A.D.A. instructor replied, and odd far-away look in his eye, "But what I _see_ are you and your friends holding Hermione, Ron, and Neville here at wandpoint…and unfortunately, we are often judged on appearances."

The seven students, despite their enmity and the conflict at hand, shared a confused look. Professor Lupin's words seemed to have some sort of deeper meaning judging by his wistful expression. Of course, none of them were privy to what that meaning might be.

"It's time to break this up, Harry. I'm sure you and your friends don't want to get into trouble. I believe using magic in the halls and especially unauthorized dueling amongst the students is strictly forbidden and could result in suspension or even worse."

"This Mudblood will _see_ 'worse' the next time I catch her alone," Malfoy threatened, practically spitting the word 'Mudblood'. He let go of Hermione, but not before shoving her into the wall…hard, "Consider yourself warned, Mudblood!!"

"You shut your mouth, Malfoy!!" Ron yelled, struggling to break free of Crabbe and Goyle. Whether he liked Hermione or not, Ron was raised to despise the word 'Mudblood' and he would always rail against anybody who chose to use such a hateful word.

"ENOUGH!!" Lupin yelled. He had the tip of his wand pointed at his own neck, and his voice came out like thunder. Everyone seemed to be startled into silence by the sound, which must have been the desired effect, because he then removed his wand from his neck, returning his voice to normal, "Draco, you would do well to learn a little bit of tolerance as not everyone in this world is a Pureblood…not even in Slytherin."

When he said this, Lupin looked pointedly at Harry, but Malfoy and his goons were too busy making disgruntled protests of such 'slander' that they didn't notice. Ron noticed, however, and his lips curled up in a smirk worthy of Malfoy. No doubt Malfoy would be scandalized to learn that his best mate, Harry Potter, wasn't a Pureblood like he was.

Before Ron could mention Harry's lack of blood purity, however, Professor Lupin turned in his direction with an expression on his face that was sterner as any he had seen from the rather easygoing, much-liked teacher.

"And you, Ron, would do well not to let Draco get to you. Distasteful as it is…and you'll forgive me for saying it, Hermione…'Mudblood' is just a word, and words – provided they're not spell incantations – cannot hurt you."

Unwilling to broach any arguments being made by either group, Professor Lupin shooed away the two warring factions, sending the Slytherins off toward their dungeons and sending the Gryffindors up to their tower.

Before they were completely out of earshot, however, Ron could have sworn her heard Professor Lupin muttering to himself in a defeated sort of sad, quiet voice.

"I had hoped he'd be more like James and Lily…but I suppose ten years with those Muggles and two years with the Slytherins have ruined that chance…"

Ron turned to ask Professor Lupin a question about what he'd just said, but the ragged-looking teacher shambled off before he could.

_"Poor Lupin,"_ Ron thought as the memory shifted into a kaleidoscope of colors, _"Seeing Harry like that must break his heart."_

The swirling mix of colors gave way to a new memory; this one taking place on the castle grounds on a day closing in on summer, judging by the heat.

"Well, that's one more exam out of the way," Ron sighed as he and Neville made their way up to the castle from the greenhouses.

"Could you believe how _easy_ it was?" Neville asked with a proud smile shining on his round face.

Ron scowled at his friend as they made their way back from the Herbology final. Neville may have found it easy seeing as he had somehow become some sort of plant genius recently, but to Ron it was just one more class he really didn't care about.

"We all know you aced the final, Nev," Ron said, trying not to sound bitter that his best friend was pulling straight O's in Herbology while he, himself, was lucky to squeak by with an A average for the class, "No need to rub it in."

"Exams wouldn't be so difficult for you if you'd study more."

Ron stopped in his tracks at the sound of the voice behind him. Neville heaved a weary sigh at the sight of the angry expression on Ron's face as he turned to face the source of the voice.

"Hermione…" Neville whined, rolling his eyes as he, too, turned around.

"I don't recall asking your opinion of my study habits," Ron hissed, "Not everybody wants to spend all their free-time studying and revising for exams."

"Try _any_ of your free-time," Hermione scoffed pointedly, pushing past Ron and Neville and making her way up the front steps to the imposing double doors leading into the castle.

"Hermione, why do you always have to start with Ron?" Neville asked, running to catch up with his friend before she disappeared inside the castle.

"Why does _he_ always have to make it seem like getting good grades is a sin?" she asked, her voice unusually high and a tad bit hysterical.

"He didn't --…"

"Don't defend him, Neville!!" she screamed, railing angrily at the round-faced boy, "You're doing really well in Herbology and instead of being proud of you for all your hard work he belittles you and whines about class being tough! If he just put in a little effort --…"

"You're completely mental, do you know that?" Ron yelled, stomping up the steps to face the bushy-haired girl, "I wasn't even talking to you and you start screeching at me!"

"I did not SCREECH!!" Hermione screeched, looking as though tears were about to fall from her eyes.

Ron and Neville shared a nervous glance. This wasn't normal behavior for Hermione even at the worst of times when she and Ron were going at each other full tilt. She didn't look good, either. Her hair was frizzier than usual, her face was pale and there were dark circles under her eyes and her eyes, which were usually bright and inquisitive, were now dull and moved about frantically as she looked back and forth between the two boys.

"Hermione, calm down," Neville said as he placed a hand on her shoulder. He was trying to be soothing but Hermione was having none of it.

"Don't patronize me, Neville!" Hermione yelled, shrugging off his hand as angry tears started to form at the corners of her eyes, "I swear to God or Merlin or whomever it is we're supposed to deify, I'll hex you!"

Ron gaped incredulously at the girl who appeared to be having a mental breakdown right before his very eyes. He knew there was something going on with her…he'd been watching her all year, after all…and while no one else believed him, here was the proof that something was wrong with Hermione Granger.

"She's gone barmy, Neville," Ron said moving cautiously to Neville's side, "She's acting worse than she did when she found out Buckbeak was going to be executed."

As if to prove Ron's point for him, Hermione reached out and slapped him hard across the face.

"What the bloody Hell was _that_ for?!" Ron shouted, bringing his hand up to tenderly touch his stinging cheek.

"How dare you bring that up, you heartless monster?" Hermione hissed, looking berserk as she got in his face that Ron actually took a step back, "You're no better than Malfoy!!"

"No better than --…?!"

Before Ron could finish his retort, an openly sobbing Hermione pushed her way into the castle, crying hysterically as she ran from the two boys. As she did, a flash of grey followed by a larger flash of orange rushed through the open doors and bolted out into the school grounds.

"Scabbers! Bloody Hell!!" Ron jumped down off the steps and started chasing after his rat and Hermione's cat, but he stopped in his tracks when he heard Neville calling after him.

"Ron, where are you going? What about Hermione?"

"Go after her, Nev…tell McGonagall something's wrong with her…I've got to stop her ruddy cat from eating Scabbers!"

Without another word, Ron took off after the two pets. He surely would have lost the two animals in the tall grass and underbrush if not for the bright orange bottlebrush tail of Crookshanks', bobbing and weaving as he chased Scabbers.

Ron was nearly out of breath from chasing the two animals hither and yon across the vast grounds of the school. He'd never seen his pet rat move so fast in all the years he'd known him…including the years when he still belonged to Percy. Of course, Scabbers was, quite literally, running for his life and such a situation would surely account for the sudden spryness in the rat, despite its sickly appearance and despondent nature since the Weasley family's holiday to Egypt.

A massive tree loomed large in the foreground, and it didn't take a genius to realize that Scabbers was headed right for it. Ron could just make out a large, gaping hole in the ground among the roots; no doubt, if the rat made it into that hole, Ron would lose him, even if Scabbers _did_ manage to evade Crookshanks this time around.

"Scabbers, no!" Ron yelled, gasping for breath. He then turned his frustration in Crookshanks' direction, "Stay away from Scabbers, you bloody orange beast!!"

It was obvious that neither animal had any intention of listening to Ron. Scabbers continued racing towards the perceived safety of the tree roots and with a sudden burst of speed, Crookshanks leapt forward, pouncing on the rat and pinning the squeaking, struggling rodent to the ground.

The squeaking grew louder as the large ginger cat clamped its jaws down on the scruff of Scabbers' neck and lifted him effortlessly off the ground. Crookshanks began making his own way towards the dark pit beneath the tree. Ron charged forward immediately, desperate to save his pet from certain death.

"Get off him! Let go of Scabbers!" Ron yelled, lunging at the cat.

_"Let Crookshanks have him!"_ Ron yelled at his fourteen-year-old counterpart, _"That bloody traitor deserves to get eaten!"_

Crookshanks didn't seem the least bit fazed by Ron and his shouting, and with a smugly carefree flick of his tail, the big cat bounded down the hall, ignoring Scabbers' frantic squeaking and the irate hollering of the rat's owner.

Ron was just about to dive into the unknown of the gaping hole beneath the tree in order to save his pet rat when the blood-chilling sound of a menacing growl behind him made him change his mind. Ron turned around swiftly and found himself standing face-to-face with what people in the wizarding world might be wont to describe as The Grim.

The enormous, jet-black dog glared at Ron with its pale, baleful eyes; its fangs were bared and flecks of saliva dripped from its vicious mouth. Suddenly, Ron was reminded of his Uncle Bilius who had once seen the Grim and died the very next day and Ron couldn't help feeling as if his own life would soon be coming to an untimely end.

Ron nervously gripped his wand and slid it out of his pocket, bringing it around in front of him and aiming it with a shaking hand and trembling fingers at the black dog before him.

"I d-don't want to hurt you," Ron stammered trying to hold down the fear gripping his heart, "I just want to get my r-rat back; so why don't you be a good d-dog and b-bugger off!!"

_"I forgot how bloody scary Sirius' animagus form really is,"_ Ron commented as he watched the memory, _"At least _I_ won't be dealing with another broken leg; thank Merlin this is just a memory."_

Recognition seemed to flash across the dog's pale yellow eyes at the sight of the wand and it growled even louder and with more ferocity, slowly stalking towards Ron, keeping its eyes locked on the tip of the red-haired boy's wand.

Despite the tremor of fear running through him, Ron kept his wand trained on the dog and took slow, measured steps towards the hole beneath the tree. As he did, however, the great black dog decided to make its own move.

Quicker than Ron could cast a spell to defend himself, the huge dog leapt at him, slamming into him with its massive paws and knocking Ron to the ground. He cried out in pain as the dog sank its slavering teeth into his arm, shaking it about violently until, with a loud _snap_, his arm broke and Ron dropped his wand.

The dog released him and with a massive amount of pain, Ron rolled away and struggled to his feet, gingerly holding his broken arm close to his chest. Ron looked on in disbelief as the dog very carefully and with nimble grace picked up his wand in its mouth and, with yet another menacing growl in Ron's direction, leapt into the same gaping hole beneath the tree that Crookshanks had scampered off into a few moments before.

Ron stood there, broken arm clasped to his body, trying to get a handle on the moment. In less than five minutes' time he'd lost his pet rat to Hermione's cat – the ruddy beast was probably devouring Scabbers at that very instant – and then he'd had his arm mangled and his wand stolen by what any witch or wizard worth their salt would call The Grim.

"How can this day get any worse?"

_"Never ask a question you don't want answered,"_ Ron warned his counterpart ineffectually.

As if in answer to Ron's question, a great _cracking_ noise filled the air, as of a massive tree falling amongst other trees in the forest…all groaning and woodsy. Movement above him drew Ron's attention and his eyes widened as he realized where he was.

He hadn't noticed before since the tree had been completely still – as if stunned or asleep. Now, however, the Whomping Willow was in motion again and its huge branches waved about angrily. Ron turned to run but it was too late; the groaning of the Willow's branches, straining under the movement, was the last thing Ron heard before finding himself flying through the air…feeling as though he'd been hit by a giant Beater's bat in bizarre Quidditch match in which he was a Bludger.

Ron's flight was short, however, and before he could fully acknowledge that he was, in fact, sailing through the air, his graceless arc through the Hogwarts sky reached its zenith and he began a rapid descent towards the ground below. The lush green of the Hogwarts grounds filled his view as he plummeted down to meet it, and as his body crashed painfully into the turf below, the green which filled his vision quickly faded to black.

When the darkness finally receded, it gave way to a sea of white…and almost as soon as the white filled his vision, pain filled his body.

"Bloody Hell…" Ron groaned, his voice hoarse and cracking. He felt like his entire body was just one big bruise.

"Ah, Mr. Weasley…you're finally awake," the careworn face of Madam Pomfrey entered Ron's field of vision, breaking up the infinite whiteness that he now realized was the ceiling of the school's Hospital Wing.

"Not again," he moaned, closing his eyes and digging his head into the fluffy pillow under his head, "How long was I out this time?"

"Only for a day-and-a-half this time," Madam Pomfrey said, patting him on the should and then helping him to sit up, "Whatever inspired you to go wandering around the Whomping Willow? Honestly, how can I be expected to keep you students healthy when you actively _seek_ misadventure at every possible opportunity?"

"Didn't mean to," Ron groaned. He was about to explain how he'd come to be within the abusive tree's domain, but the moment he opened his mouth the school matron poured a potion in.

"That should relieve the pain you're no doubt in, Mr. Weasley," the nurse explained once she finished upending the potion bottle into his mouth, "I healed your broken bones while you were unconscious…you were a bit like a Muggle jigsaw puzzle when they brought you in.

Ron didn't say anything, closing his eyes and letting the potion do its job…easing the pain that was wracking his body.

"There was also a nasty bite on your arm," Madam Pomfrey continued, checking the dressing on his forearm, "How is it you find yourself in these situations, Mr. Weasley?"

"Just lucky, I reckon," he replied, flashing her a weak smile.

Madam Pomfrey clucked her tongue at Ron's cheekiness and then proceeded to tidy his bedside before moving off to tend to other patients.

"Mr. Longbottom is here and once he's finished visiting with Miss Granger, I'm sure he'll come and visit with you."

"Granger's here?" Ron asked, sitting up an looking around, "What's wrong with her? She's been acting all wonky…"

"The poor girl is suffering from exhaustion," the nurse replied, "Taking too much onto her shoulders with all those extra classes. Ah, here's Mr. Longbottom now…"

Neville walked up and flashed a smile at Ron, though it seemed forced; his eyes were full of worry and bore dark circles underneath.

"Hey, Ron…how're you feeling?"

"Better, now that I've had a dose of Pain Relief," Ron said, managing another weak smile, "You look like Hell, though, Nev. I thought _I_ was the one got tangled up with the Whomping Willow."

"I haven't gotten much sleep," Neville explained, dropping heavily into the chair next to Ron's bed, "Having two of my closest friends unconscious in the Hospital Wing has kept me up at night. What were you doing out by the Whomping Willow?"

"Chasing Scabbers," Ron explained. His voice, though hoarse, was unmistakably tinted with anger, "I didn't realize how far I'd chased him until after Crookshanks got him."

"_Got him_?" Neville repeated, swallowing nervously, "You mean…?"

"I mean her bloody cat ate him!" Ron snapped, taking a moment to cast an angry glance at Hermione where she lay, sleeping in her bed across the ward.

"I'm sorry," Neville said softly, "I know how long Scabbers has been in your family."

"Twelve years," Ron said gravely, "I can hear Percy now, _'Scabbers was perfectly fine when he belonged to _me_, Ronald. He's yours for less than three years and you let him get eaten by a cat.'_ And you just know my mum is going to throw this back in my face if I ever ask for another pet, _'Why should I throw away good money on some poor creature you're just going to let get eaten?!'_"

Neville tried not to laugh, knowing that Scabbers' death was a sensitive subject for Ron, but it was difficult since Ron's impersonation of his brother and mother were exaggerated and very funny. For all the joking, though, there was something in Ron's eyes what worried Neville.

"You're not going to let this go, are you?" Neville asked quietly, looking down at his feet, "You're always going to blame her, aren't you?"

"Who…Granger? Probably," Ron said, his jaw set defiantly, "If she had just owned up to it…taken some responsibility for her bloody cat…but you heard her, _'He's a cat, what do you expect?'_"

"You know she hasn't been herself all year," Neville said sadly, looking over his shoulder at the sleeping girl, "You said so yourself that she wasn't acting normal."

"And nobody believed me," Ron reminded him, "I said something was wrong with her when she missed Charms that day…"

"I know…I should've listened," Neville nodded, "She was taking too many extra classes…I overheard Professor McGonagall and Madam Pomfrey talking about her having a nervous breakdown."

"So you're asking me to forgive her and her cat," Ron said, looking away from his friend, "Just let Scabbers get eaten and not say a bloody thing."

"I know better than that, Ron," Neville sighed, "You two hate each other…there's really no way to _stop_ you from going at it whenever you can…but we go home tomorrow, then you'll have the whole summer away from her. Can you just…I don't know…_avoid_ her until we're back home?"

"I reckon it'll be hard to avoid her when we're both shut up in the same Hospital Wing, Nev," Ron scoffed.

"You could try," Neville said, sounding hopeful, "She might even sleep the whole time, you never know."

"I can't guarantee I won't say something, Neville," Ron said, being honest with his friend, "She pushes my buttons, you know that…but I'll try…_only_ long enough to get back home. That means once the summer is over I'm not going to hold my tongue."

"Well, if you can hold off until next school year," Neville replied, "We can deal with the future when it happens."

"Merlin, Nev," Ron chuckled in spite of himself, "The way you're coddling Granger, if I didn't know better, I'd say you had a crush on her."

_"No! Merlin, please tell me Neville is not in love with Hermione in this universe!!!"_ Ron was not prepared for this potential turn of events on this strange world.

Neville blushed and looked away but didn't deny Ron's words, "She's my friend, Ron…ever since the first ride on the Hogwarts Express. Nobody else would help me find Trevor, but she was more than willing…"

"I remember…Merlin, she was such a know-it-all, even then!" Ron laughed, remembering the day he first encountered Hermione and Neville, "Rubbed me the wrong way right from the start…made me feel like an idiot in front of 'famous Harry Potter'."

"It's not too late, Ron…you could still be friends," Neville said, sounding hopeful.

"Me and Potter?! You've got to be kidding, Nev!" Ron looked agog at him.

"Actually, I meant you and Hermione," Neville clarified, "It's not too late…"

"Talk about wishful thinking," Ron laughed bitterly, "There may've been a slim chance for us to be friends in the beginning…very slim…but that chance is gone. Sorry, mate."

"I understand," Neville sighed, "Listen…I need to get back to the tower. I've got to finish packing. I'll let the Ginny and your brothers know you're awake."

"Cheers, Nev."

Ron watched as his friend left the Hospital Wing and gave a deep sigh. Waking up in here at the end of the school year was starting to become a habit with him. Definitely a habit he wanted to break.

"Next year, I will _not_ end up in the Hospital Wing," he said, making a promise to himself; one he hoped he could keep, "Nope…next year will be a year free of injuries."

He chuckled softly, knowing that he was probably setting himself for a disappointment. Most students wound up in here for one reason or another throughout the school year. Thinking he could make it an entire year without needing to see Madam Pomfrey was, likely, a delusional pipe dream.

Ron looked around the Hospital Wing, already growing tired of the white walls. His gaze fell on the sleeping form of Hermione Granger, and his eyes narrowed bitterly. She looked so peaceful in her sleep, seemingly oblivious to what happened out there under the boughs of the Whomping Willow.

"Neville's my best friend, so I'll do as he asked…I'll give you a break for now," Ron said quietly, not meaning for anyone to hear him, "But your cat ate Scabbers, and I'm not going to forgive you for this, Granger. Next year…all bets are off."

Ron rolled over onto his side and closed his eyes, intending to catch a nap before his brothers and Ginny showed up to check on him and no doubt take the mickey out of him for winding up in the Hospital Wing again. He sat up suddenly when he heard a sad little voice quietly say "I'm sorry". He looked over to Hermione's bed, but if it had been her, she was pretending to be asleep. He lay back down and closed his eyes, deciding he had been hearing things. That there was no way that Hermione Granger would apologize to him was the last thought passing through his head before things faded to black once again.

When the darkness faded to light again, Ron found himself sitting in a compartment on the Hogwarts Express, heading home for the summer holiday. Neville was sitting next to him, reading a copy of _The Daily Prophet_ and Hermione was sitting quietly across from them, gazing sadly out the window. Her cat, Crookshanks, sat unhappily inside his wicker cat carrier and anytime he saw fit to yowl in protest, the bushy-haired girl would lean in and shush him, practically begging the cat to quiet down.

Ron, himself, was flipping through a copy of _Which Broomstick_, reading an article on the brooms the national Quidditch teams would be using at the World Cup over the summer. With any luck, he and Neville would get to see them first hand as his dad had mentioned getting tickets from a friend of his in the Ministry.

Despite his interest in the article, every few moments Ron would look up over the top of his magazine and quickly glance at Hermione. Her unusual quietude was unnerving, but he didn't comment on it since he'd promised Neville to leave her alone. Frankly, he had wanted to sit in a different compartment, but Neville had insisted so that he could keep an eye on his friend since he was still worried about her.

Ron suspected that she might be so quiet and making a point of keeping her cat quiet because she felt guilty about Scabbers' death at the hands of the furry ginger menace locked in the cat hutch. Part of him felt glad that she was feeling guilty…she should after all, since it was _her_ cat that ate poor Scabbers. Another part of him…the part that went after her on Halloween night back in First Year and hurried to back her up against Potter, Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle a few months ago…wanted to let her off the hook. They weren't friends by any stretch of the imagination, but they were both Gryffindors and that had to count for something.

Still, Ron was nothing if not stubborn and proud. Scabbers' death was a point of contention he refused to give up lightly. He was giving her the summer to get over her "exhaustion", and then come 1 September, he'd be giving her a piece of his mind over what her stupid cat had done and how it was all her fault. Of course, Neville wouldn't be too happy about that…

Ron looked over at his friend and noticed that he looked a tad bit flustered as he read the newspaper. "Something wrong, Nev?"

"It says here that Sirius Black showed up in the middle of the Ministry two days ago and has been cleared of all the crimes he committed."

"What? That's mental!"

"Here, read it yourself," Neville said, passing Ron the paper. Hermione looked as if she, too, would like to see the article, but she said nothing.

_SIRIUS BLACK: A FREE MAN!_

_Following a shocking series of events in which escaped prisoner Sirius Black showed up in the heart of the Ministry of Magic, Cornelius Fudge himself granted Black a full pardon and issued an official apology for what he called Black's "wrongful imprisonment"._

_"I heartily apologize to Mr. Black for the miscarriage of justice perpetrated against him twelve years ago. As a result of new evidence in regards to his case, Mr. Black has been cleared of all charges and he will be compensated for the dozen years he wrongfully served in Azkaban prison."_

_That evidence the Minister of Magic referred to came in the form of Peter Pettigrew alive and well and confessing to the crimes for which Black was convicted. Pettigrew was one of thirteen people – alongside twelve innocent Muggles – thought to have been killed by Black on Halloween Night in 1981._

_Pettigrew is set to stand trial immediately, though with his full confession, it is expected to be a quick one. Prosecution in the case is said to be asking for no less than the Dementors' Kiss for Pettigrew, while the Defense is expected to ask for a lifetime sentence in Azkaban._

_For years, Sirius Black was considered the right-hand-man of You-Know-Who himself, though in reality he staunchly opposed the dark wizard and his plans for world domination. With his name finally in the clear, hopefully Mr. Black can begin to heal the pain that began for him on a dark night so many years ago._

"I can't believe he's innocent!" Ron gasped, handing the paper back to Neville who handed it to Hermione without sparing Ron so much as a glance.

"I wonder where Peter Pettigrew has been hiding all these years," Neville replied.

"Somewhere near Hogwarts, obviously."

Ron jumped in spite of himself at the sound of Hermione's voice. He hadn't heard her speak in hours, and hadn't expected her to weigh in on the conversation he was having with Neville.

"How do you figure that?" Neville asked, intrigued by Hermione's answer.

"Well, he'd been spotted _inside_ Hogwarts once, and the Dementors were guarding the entire school and searching Hogsmeade Village regularly; it stands to reason that he was in the area for something. Peter Pettigrew must have been nearby…he knew that somehow."

"So he wasn't really there to kill Potter?" Ron sounded disappointed, "Pity."

"You should just be thankful he wasn't there to kill _you_ either," Neville laughed, slapping Ron on the back, "Considering the way he woke you up that night."

Hermione rolled her eyes, no doubt put off by the boys' joking attitude toward such morbid topics. She went back to being silent and looking out the window while Ron and Neville joked around about being attacked by murdering lunatics.

_"If only things had played out this way on my world,"_ Ron thought as his counterpart and Neville continued their joking, _"Sirius would be a free man and Harry would be living with him instead of the Dursleys. It may be selfish, but I prefer a world where Sirius is a fugitive and Harry's my best friend to a world where Sirius is free and Harry's a Slytherin."_

"What's that?"

Ron and Neville turned their attention back to Hermione when she spoke up again nearly an hour later. She was looking intently out the window at something trying its best to keep pace with the train. The thing was very small and gray and was bobbing in and out of sight beyond the glass. It was a tiny owl, carrying a long, thin parcel that was much too big for it. The owl was so small that it kept tumbling over in the air, buffeted this way and that in the train's slipstream.

Hermione pulled down the window, and the fluffy little owl struggled inside, flapping its wings frantically. Once inside, the owl dropped its package onto Ron's seat and began zooming around the compartment, apparently very pleased with itself for accomplishing its task. Inside the cat-carrier, Crookshanks sat up and was following the owl with his great yellow eyes, yowling hungrily. Ron, noticing this, snatched the owl safely out of harm's way, letting it perch on his shoulder.

The parcel was over a foot long, but was rather thin. It was wrapped in brown paper and there was a note tied to it with Ron's name on it. Surprised and confused, Ron tore off the note and began reading it.

_Dear R. Weasley,_

_You may not remember me, though we had a couple of run-ins over the course of the year that I fear may have left you somewhat the worse-for-wear. Let me immediately apologize for the unfortunate wake-up call that no doubt kept you up at least for the rest of the night…if not for several more afterwards. We'll call that a case of mistaken identity, as you are definitely not the person I was looking for and I certainly didn't mean to give you such a fright._

_Also, I must apologize for your mistreatment at the "paws" of my furry friend, Padfoot. He's usually a very nice dog with an even temper. I do hope the bite and the broken arm have healed._

_I do appreciate you "lending" Padfoot your wand; believe me when I say I couldn't have made it to the Ministry without it. Thanks for your help; you were invaluable in getting myself exonerated. You'll find your wand inside the package…thanks again for the loaner._

_Lastly, I feel bad about what happened to your rat. It goes without saying that you will never see him again…so by way of apology, I thought you might like to keep the little owl who delivered this to you…I'm not sure how reliable he is, but he certainly is eager._

_Sincerely, _

_S. Black_

"Bloody Hell," Ron gasped once he'd finished the note. He scooped up the package off the seat and quickly ripped it open, "My wand! I thought for sure it was gone for good. I was _not_ looking forward to telling Mum and Dad they'd need to get me a new wand two years in a row."

"Who's it from, Ron?" Neville asked, understandably curious.

"You'll never believe it." Ron handed him the note and Neville read it with wide eyes. "He says I can keep the owl, too."

At the mention of the little ball of feathers, the owl nibbled at Ron's ear in what it seemed to think was an affectionate way.

"He's a mental little thing," Ron commented, scooping the owl off his shoulder, stroking his feathers, "And I'll have a hard time explaining where I got him, but now I'll never have to rely on Errol when I want to write you, Nev. I always worried that he was going to cark it somewhere between the Burrow and your place and Mum would never let me hear the end of it."

"What are you going to call him?" Neville asked, looking at the excitable little owl as it hooted happily as it sat in the palm of Ron's hand.

"I've no idea," Ron said honestly, "But I'm sure I'll think of something."

The memory started to fade as he was once again plunged into darkness, and Ron found himself chuckling at the little grey owl as it hooted and hopped up and down on its new master's hand.

_"Nice to see Pig is still the same barmy little ball of feathers he is back home. He's a much better pet than Scabbers ever was..."_

**AUTHOR'S END NOTES:** And there it is. Chapter 6. I won't even begin to believe Chapter 7 will be ready in two weeks. I'll start working on it this weekend (after my birthday party), and hopefully I'll have to you people in LESS than two months!

I'm sorry for the delay in getting this chapter out, and I'm sorry if it sucked really bad.

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	7. Reflections of the Love You Took from Me

**AUTHOR'S NOTES:** I've been dying to get this chapter of **_Mirror, Mirror_** done ever since I first started writing this story, and I'll tell you why...this is the final flashback chapter. From here on out, everything that happens isn't happening to AU Ron Weasley, it's happening to the REAL Ron Weasley. That means the action and the intrigue and all the juiciness can start to unfold now that Ron knows just how the _other_ Ron spent his last four years.

This chapter might raise a lot of questions, and really, that's what I want. I've intentionally left some things rather vague...or omitted things altogether on purpose. After all, I don't want you, the reader, to have too much information just yet! The story is really only getting started! After all, I may've been posting this thing for the last five months, but it's still the same day it was when Ron woke up in his four-poster way back in Chapter 2. As things unfold and as the story becomes more and more of a woven tapestry, hopefully all the questions that have been brewing within the minds of my readers (still can't summon the ego to refer to you good people as FANS) will be answered.

Once again, I'm breaking my long-standing tradition of reviwer shout-outs...but as anyone who has reviewed my stories in the past knows, I answer each and every one and I appreciate them all (I even have folders set up in my e-mail client in which I save all your reviews!). Anyone who has taken the time to write me a review is an awesome person and they have my undying gratitude (and you all know who you are).

For the second time, I'm posting without first running this past my beta. As with Chapter 6, I just wanted to get this out there as soon as possible. Even though it's only been two weeks since my last posting, the two month hiatus between Chapters 5 and 6 have me feeling SO behind on my story-writing that I don't want there to be even the TINIEST delay in posting once I've finished writing the thing. So, to CutewithAcapital-Q, I apologize. My decision to go right to post is in no way a condemnation of you or your beta-reading.

As is usual, I'm not happy with this chapter. But, since I'm never happy, I won't dwell on it.

**DISCLAIMER:** JKR owns these things...God bless her for letting me fuck them up!

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**_MIRROR, MIRROR  
_****Chapter 7  
**"**Reflections of the Love You Took from Me"**

"KRUM! KRUM! KRUM!!"

The sounds of the crowd's cheers for the Bulgarian Seeker rang through Ron's head as yet another memory came into focus. The Quidditch World Cup was being contested between the Irish and Bulgarian National Teams, just as it had been on his own world.

Ron couldn't help scowling when he realized his fourteen-year-old counterpart was cheering as well, swept up in the furor of being on-hand to watch one of the best Quidditch players ever to ride a broom.

"Hard to believe he's only eighteen!"

Ron looked over and, unsurprisingly, Neville Longbottom was seated next to him.

_"Hard to believe he doesn't fall off his broom with such a large pumpkin-head,"_ Ron thought bitterly; deep down feeling disgusted with himself for ever having cheered Viktor Krum.

"He may be only eighteen, but he rides a broom like he's been doing it for a hundred years!" Ron's counterpart gushed as Krum executed a textbook Wronski Feint that sent the Irish Seeker ploughing in the pitch, "He's a bloody artist on a broom! An artist, I tell ya'!"

Neville grinned brightly at his friend's excitement. Ron was standing and leaning over the railing of the Top Box as he cheered his hero.

"This is bloody brilliant, eh Nev?" Ron said, smiling broadly at his best mate, "Who'd have thought we'd be here watching the World Cup from the best seats in the stadium?!"

"You said it, Ron," Neville replied, beaming, "I owe you one for inviting me."

"Rubbish," Ron said, waving him off, "What're best mates for?"

Sharing a knowing smile and a quick nod, the two friends turned their attention back to the match playing out before them. The Irish Seeker had been tended to and had returned to the air, where he continued to search for the Golden Snitch, desperate to find it before Viktor Krum.

Ireland seemed to be fired up by the mistreatment of their Seeker at the hands of the Bulgarians, and the team put on a scoring demonstration, quickly taking control of the game and leading by more than a hundred points.

Penalty shots quicklyracked up as the Bulgarians did whatever they could to try in vain to stop the Irish from scoring. The match became violent, and Krum, himself, took a Bludger square in the face, breaking his nose spectacularly.

There wasn't time for him to checked over by mediwizards, however, as the Snitch was spotted and the Irish Seeker, Lynch, was after it. Krum caught up quickly as they dived towards the ground once again and for the second time that night, Lynch ploughed heavily into the ground. Krum had managed to pull up and had also managed to grab the Snitch! Bulgaria took the Snitch, but the Irish won the match, 170 to 160.

With the match over, the two teams made their way up to the Top Box to shake hands with the British and Bulgarian Ministers of Magic, and for the Quidditch World Cup to be presented to the winning Irishmen.

Ron grew excited as Viktor Krum waddled in, all round-shouldered and duck-footed, his face still bloodied with two black eyes slowly forming. He wanted to rush forward and ask the Bulgarian Seeker for his autograph, but it didn't seem the appropriate time or place. And, suddenly, a cold hateful drawl from behind him caused Ron to lose all his excitement.

"This must have been a real treat for you, Weaselbee," Draco Malfoy sneered, "I don't know how your family of paupers _weaseled_ their way in to the Top Box at the World Cup final, but we've just spent the better part of the summer traveling Europe seeing the qualifying matches and meeting the teams…Transylvania, Albania, Luxembourg, France…too many to waste my time listing for the likes of you. It was some of the best Quidditch I've ever seen; wouldn't you agree, Harry?"

"Absolutely," Harry said, nodding stiffly, his voice a bit hollow.

"There's even talk of father securing positions for myself and Harry on the English Team in time for the _next_ World Cup! Considering they lost to Transylvania, they could use some _good_ players on the team. Of course, I'll have to insist they up their standards on who is and _isn't_ allowed into the stadium…"

"Now, now, Draco," came the silky, sneering voice of Draco's father, Lucius Malfoy, "There's no need to be cruel to the less fortunate. No doubt they had to beg, borrow, and steal to get these seats. What was it, Arthur…enchanting Muggle devices to sell on the Black Market?"

"Dealing in illegal merchandise has always been _your_ cup-of-tea, Lucius, not mine," Arthur replied, in clipped tones. It was obvious he was trying to maintain his temper.

"Mind your tongue, Weasley," Lucius hissed, "You don't want to impugn my reputation in front of the Minister. After all, who would Fudge believe…someone who just donated a million galleons to St. Mungo's, or someone known to be in possession of a flying Muggle car?"

Arthur Weasley bit his tongue and escorted his family out of the Top Box and out of the stadium to return to their tent for the night. He did his best to silence the grumblings of his children about Malfoy, but his heart wasn't in it, and he obviously wanted to grouse right alongside them.

_"Bloody prat, Malfoy…has to ruin everything,"_ Ron thought as the memory started to fade and his vision became a swirl of colors as a new one started to form, _"And who would want to watch Albania play Quidditch? They didn't even reach the qualifying round of the World Cup!"_

When his vision came into focus again, Ron found himself in the Great Hall at Hogwarts. Neville was, once again, by his side, and they appeared to be seated just after the Welcoming Feast; Dumbledore was standing at the High Table, making his yearly announcements.

"As has become something of a tradition here at Hogwarts, we will welcoming a new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher this year," everyone looked to the High Table at the headmaster's words, where there was an empty place between Professors Snape and Dumbledore, "Last year's instructor, Professor Lupin, resigned after reuniting with an old friend shortly after the term ended. He has decided to take an extended holiday reliving his youth and making up for lost time. We of course offer him our fondest wishes for all his future endeavors."

There was a chorus of disappointed groans amongst the majority of students. Professor Lupin had been almost everybody's favorite teacher, and there was a vocal majority of students who had been hoping for him to return this year.

"This year's Defense course will be taught by my old friend Alastor Moody…who will be arriving shortly," Dumbledore continued, paying no heed to the grumbling, "I have no doubt that Professor Moody will bring a new outlook to your studies this year."

The doors to the Great Hall banged open and Professor Trelawney entered, staggering a bit and bumping into the doorjamb. The students started laughing as it appeared she was drunk. At the High Table, most of the professors looked at the Divination teacher with looks of disappointment and disdain; only Professor Dumbledore seemed concerned by Trelawney's sudden appearance, and when her eyes rolled back in her head, the headmaster shouted for silence as he rushed to her side.

"Sybil, can you hear me? Are you ill?"

Trelawney didn't appear to have heard Dumbledore; in fact, she didn't seem to be acknowledging his presence at all. Every single person in the Great Hall, teachers and students alike, were silent. The only exception was Professor Dumbledore as he tried, futilely, to communicate with the entranced seer.

As a result of the tense silence in the hall, when Professor Trelawney, herself, spoke up finally, her voice deep and hollow, it was like a sudden clap of thunder, and more than one student – as well as little Professor Flitwick at the High Table – jumped in surprise.

_"SEEK THE ONE WITH THE PUREST OF BLOOD AND THE HUMBLEST OF HEARTS; THROUGH HIM, ALONE, CAN THE DARK TURN TO LIGHT…THAT THE ONE CHOSEN TO VANQUISH THE DARK LORD MAY SUCCEED IN HIS GRIM TASK."_

All eyes were on Trelawney as she spoke, and no one was brave enough to make a noise as long as the Divination teacher continued in her odd tone of voice.

_"ONLY THE LOYALTY OF THE TRAITOR'S BLOOD CAN SEPARATE THE CHOSEN ONE FROM THE DARK LORD SO THAT HE MAY FULFILL HIS DESTINY. SEEK THE BLOOD TRAITOR OR ALL IS LOST."_

The voice that didn't seem to belong to Professor Trelawney faded away and almost instantaneously she was back to her confused, clumsy, slightly inebriated self.

"Professor Dumbledore," she said, a bit surprised by what she apparently saw as the headmaster's sudden appearance, "Is something wrong? Have I missed dinner?"

When Dumbledore escorted Trelawney to the High Table and it was apparent that everything was back to normal, the hall once more broke out with the buzz of conversation. Only now, the new DADA instructor wasn't the only teacher the students were discussing in hushed voices; Trelawney and _whatever_ that had been as she entered the hall now figured prominently amongst the whispered conversations up-and-down the four House tables.

"What do you reckon that was all about?" Neville asked quietly as he leaned in close to Ron, "Do you suppose she just made some sort of prediction of the future?"

"I think she's pissed," Ron replied, smirking, "Probably been sitting up in that North Tower all day…drinking sherry between classes. Merlin knows _I'd_ have to be drunk off my arse before _I'd_ try to teach that Divination rubbish."

There was a derisive snort from across the table.

"Divination is a very wooly magical study, but even so, the idea of _you_ teaching _anything_ is just completely _laughable_!"

Ron gaped at the bushy-haired brunette as she sat across from Neville with a superior look on her face. Neville, too, looked shocked at the sudden, unprovoked insult…shocked and sad, as if he realized that the fragile truce that had existed between Ron and Hermione since the end of the last school year had just been shattered.

"How would _you_ know what I'm capable of teaching?" Ron said snappishly, "I feel a prediction coming on right now; I predict that you're going to spend yet another year at school with no friends other than your bloody cat!"

Before Hermione could fire a comeback at Ron, the hall grew silent as Dumbledore once again stood up at the High Table.

"Now that Professor Trelawney has been squared away, I must inform you of an event that will be taking place for the entire length of the school year…an event that will disrupt your lives a bit, but in a good way, I hope; an event that will, unfortunately, cause the cancellation of Quidditch for the year."

There was a mutinous protest from the students, especially from the students who played on the four House teams. Why would anyone want to cancel Quidditch? Ron had hoped to try out for the team, now that they'd need a new Keeper – owing to Oliver Wood graduating last year – but now his hopes were dashed.

"I'm sure you'll all manage to live without Quidditch for one year, considering what will be replacing it. This year, Hogwarts will be playing host to two other schools from across Europe: the Beauxbatons Academy of Magic from France, and from an undisclosed location somewhere in Northern Europe, the Durmstrang Institute. These schools will be competing against Hogwarts in an event known as the Triwizard Tournament."

The buzz of excited conversation broke out amongst the students again as the memory started to fade and Ron found himself being pulled off into another.

_"What the bloody Hell was that load of waffle Trelawney was spouting?"_ he thought as the memory shift overtook him, _"All that talk of a blood traitor…I've got a really bad feeling about all this."_

The scarlet and gold of the Gryffindor common room swirled into focus around him, and Ron found himself and his young counterpart face-to-face with the devilishly grinning countenances of his brothers, Fred and George.

"Pay up, little brother," Fred said, holding a hand out expectantly.

"_You_ backed the wrong hippogriff," George added mockingly.

"What're you talking about? I _won_ that bet!" Ron yelled, "_You_ pay up!"

"Krum didn't win," Fred replied, "He tied with Potter."

"Serves you right for betting against your school," said George.

"Shame on you," Fred added.

"Where's your loyalty?" George asked with a smirk.

"Now, _pay up_!" the twins said in perfect synch.

"No effing way!" Ron snapped, "It was a tie! They _both_ won! At most, it was a push and I don't owe you a knut!"

"In case of a tie, the House…" Fred began

"That's us…" George added

"Wins!" they finished together.

"That's not fair!" Ron shouted angrily, "Besides…Potter cheated! He doesn't belong in the Triwizard Tournament! How'd he get in when Diggory was already picked, eh? And what about the fact that he's too young?! He's a ruddy cheat and his win shouldn't count!"

"You need to get off this anti-Potter kick, little brother…" Fred said, clucking his tongue at him in a mock-approximation of their mother.

"It's not healthy…" George chimed in.

"Live and let live…" Fred said, smiling at his own profundity.

"Unless you can get away with feeding him to the giant squid!" George quipped, causing both twins to break out laughing for a moment until the both turned their eyes on Ron and extended their hands at him.

"PAY UP!"

Thirty seconds later and three sickles lighter, Ron was making his way towards the stairs leading to the boys dorm, his face a stormy mask, grousing about his brothers and their stupid gambling racket and the cheating nature of Slytherins and the unfair way Harry Potter seems to get away with everything. He was so focused on griping and grumbling that he didn't notice the superior-looking girl sitting nearby.

"Serves you right for gambling," Hermione said in her best I'm-better-than-you-are voice, "You _do_ know it's against the rules. You're lucky one of the prefects hasn't given you a detention for placing bets on the Tournament…or worse! I'm sure if Professor McGonagall found out --…"

"And _I'm_ sure you would just love to tell her, wouldn't you?!" Ron shouted.

"And why shouldn't I?" she replied, her chin jutting in the air and her arms folded across her chest.

"Why shouldn't you?!" he roared, gawping at her in disbelief, "How about because it's none of your bloody business?!!!"

"Don't swear at me!" she shouted, jumping to her feet, glaring hatefully at him, "If you get expelled for gambling it's your _own_ fault, not mine!"

"And if someone drops your bloody cat off the Astronomy Tower, it's _your_ fault, not mine!" he yelled, shooting an evil look at the ginger cat curled up in the chair next to Hermione.

"YOU LEAVE MY CAT ALONE!!!" Hermione shrieked, tears starting to form at the corners of her eyes.

Ron looked about ready to scream right back at her, but Neville Longbottom interceded. He stepped between Ron and Hermione, putting a hand on his best friend's shoulder.

"Ron…weren't you headed upstairs?" Neville asked, looking hopeful that his friend would continue on his trip up to the dorm, "And Hermione…could you help me with my Potions essay…please?"

Ron mumbled something that sounded remarkably like "this isn't over" and then turned and headed up towards his dorm, leaving Neville behind to take out his homework and enlist Hermione in helping him while trying to convince her Ron was _not_ going to hurt Crookshanks.

Ron kicked open the dormitory door, cursing at the pain shooting through his foot. He hobbled over to his bed, tripping over a pair of his shoes sticking out from under the bed. The angry redhead flopped down onto the scarlet bedspread and glared up at the ceiling.

"Why does she keep having a go at me?!" he asked the air, "I was willing to let it go…I could see how fragile she was after last year. I never once brought up Scabbers! But she still keeps digging at me!"

The frustrated redhead sighed and rolled over, punching his pillow several times before burying his head beneath it, trying to block out the world around him.

"I hate fighting with her…but everything I do…even if I try to ignore her or avoid her…it just seems to make her yell and scream at me even more. I don't even hate her stupid cat anymore…I just know it's the quickest way to get to her!"

He sat up quickly, throwing his pillow across the room and hitting the poster of Viktor Krum above Dean Thomas' bed.

"Doesn't she know I came after her First Year because of that stupid troll? And I refused to call her a Mudblood no matter how mad she made me! And last year…when I came to help her against Potter and those bloody Slytherins! Doesn't she see…?!"

"Doesn't she see what?"

Ron blushed to the tips of his ears and looked over at the door where Neville now stood, smirking. Ron quickly turned and looked away from him.

"Doesn't she see what, Ron?" Neville asked again, entering the room fully.

"I thought you were getting Potions help," the redhead grumbled, not liking the fact that he'd been overheard, "Why aren't you downstairs with Miss Perfect Know-It-All?"

"If you mean _Hermione_," Neville said, sounding as though he didn't appreciate the name-calling from Ron, "She was too upset to help me, actually. The two of you really know how to get to each other."

"I didn't start it, Nev!" Ron snapped, glaring at his best friend, "I've been _trying _to leave her alone this year, if you haven't noticed!"

"And why is that, Ron?" Neville asked, smirking again.

"Shut up, Neville," Ron grumbled, "It's obvious that she's going to _attack_ me every chance she gets, no matter _how_ nice I try to be."

"Nice is threatening to throw Crookshanks off the tallest tower in Hogwarts?" Neville asked archly.

"That ruddy beast would probably _bounce_ if I did it," Ron said sarcastically, "But no matter what I _said_, I have no intention of hurting her stupid cat."

"Maybe you should tell _her_ that," Neville replied, looking serious.

"What…and give her _another_ chance to start a row with me? No thanks!" Ron folded his arms stubbornly across his chest, his jaw set firmly.

"Ron, if you _like_ Hermione why don't you --…"

"I DO NOT _LIKE_ HERMIONE GRANGER!!" the redhead shouted angrily, causing Neville to back away.

"Alright, mate…whatever you say," Neville replied, making his way towards the door, "I reckon I'll go down and see if she's willing to help me with Potions now…"

"Yeah…you do that."

Neville left the room and Ron returned to his bed to brood. Watching his fourteen-year-old counterpart deal with problems he, himself, has been dealing with made Ron smile.

_"Nice to see the thickhead is finally starting to show some interest in her; for a while, I thought he was _completely_ stupid!"_

The room started to shift from view as the memory faded and a new one took its place. The Fourth Year Gryffindor boys' dormitory disappeared and was replaced by the corridor on the Third Floor, leading to Flitwick's classroom.

"Bloody stupid Yule Ball," Ron grumbled as he and Neville made their way down the hall towards their next class, "Dumbledore must be completely barmy."

"I don't think it's that big a deal, Ron," Neville replied, trying to calm his friend down, "Just _ask_ somebody already."

Ron caught sight of a head full of bushy brown hair a few paces in front of them on their way towards Charms class, and he lowered his voice as he posed his next question, as much to himself as to Neville.

"Do you think I could convince Granger to go with me?"

"What?!" Neville was so surprised by this question that he stopped walking only to be run into by Seamus Finnegan who griped at the round-faced boy before moving around him and continuing on to class.

"She's the least girly girl in the entire school," Ron said, stopping and turning to face his friend, "She doesn't _care _what she looks like, unlike Lavender and Parvati and the rest of those _mental_ girls, so maybe she won't care what a _bloke_ looks like either…like if his hair's bright red, or if his face is covered in freckles, or if his dress robes are hideous out-of-style hand-me-downs."

Neville clearly understood what his friend was on about, but there was something he obviously felt needed to be brought up.

"Aren't you forgetting that the two of you hate each other? I mean, didn't you threaten to kill her cat this morning?"

"He was staring at me…and I didn't really _mean it_!" Ron exclaimed, as if that was a perfectly reasonable explanation for his actions, "Besides, that monster ate my rat!"

"I thought you were done bringing that up," Neville sighed, "That happened last year, Ron."

"Yeah, well…what did _that_ get me?"

"Nevermind…" Neville said, rolling his eyes.

"Fine…" Ron grumbled, frowning, "Maybe she and I can call a truce, that way neither one of us has to go to this thing dateless and looking pathetic. Besides, it's not like anyone else is going to ask _her_!"

"Don't be so sure," Neville said with a knowing smile.

"What's _that_ supposed to mean?" Ron asked, confused.

"She already _has_ a date," Neville said matter-of-factly.

"How do _you_ know?" Ron asked, stepping closer to his friend, looking distinctly disgruntled.

"Because, when _I_ asked her to the Ball last week," Neville began, shifting a bit under his friend's scrutiny, "She said she couldn't go with me because someone else had already asked her and she said 'yes'."

"_You_ asked her?!" Ron scoffed, "Merlin, Neville, I was right…you _like_ her!"

"Look who's talking!" Neville laughed, "She's just my friend…"

"Right," Ron chuckled, "Well, listen, Nev…don't let it get you down; we'll find a couple birds for the Ball. Just you wait and see."

"Actually, Ron," Neville said, blushing heavily, "I already _have_ a date."

"What? Who?" Ron asked, dumbfounded.

"Uhm…Ginny…" Neville spoke in a voice so soft it was practically inaudible. Ron had to strain to hear him, but the look on his face told Neville that he did, indeed, hear him.

"Ginny? My _sister_ Ginny?!" Ron asked, his tone indicating he was none-too-happy with Neville's revelation.

"Is that a problem?" Neville asked, his voice cracking nervously.

"Too right, it's a problem!" Ron exclaimed, moving closer towards Neville in an intimidating fashion, "Ginny is only thirteen; she's much too young to be dating. Besides, you're my best friend…there's a rule against best friends dating baby sisters!"

"There's a rule…?" Neville looked surprised and even more embarrassed.

"Well, if there isn't, there ought to be," Ron said, knitting his eyebrows together as he glared at Neville, "Rule #32 of _The Best Friend's Handbook_: 'At no time will a bloke's best friend attempt to date said bloke's little sister.'"

"Rule #32?" Neville asked, a bit dumbfounded, "What are the other thirty-one rules about?"

"Important best mate stuff," Ron explained, "Like supporting the Chudley Cannons no matter what, sharing homework for Snape and Trelawney's classes, backing your friend up when he's beating up Draco Malfoy…"

"These rules seem oddly specific," Neville said, smiling.

"That's why there's so many of them," Ron said with a shrug.

The warning bell rang and Neville and Ron had to hurry to Professor McGonagall's class before they were late, tabling their discussion of dates for the Yule Ball until after class. Once class had ended, and they were on their way back to the Gryffindor common room, Ron and Neville continued their date discussion.

"I can't believe Granger got a date," Ron groaned after listening to Hermione play know-it-all for the last half-an-hour in Transfiguration class, "I mean, who in their right mind would ask _her_?"

"_I_ asked her," Neville reminded him.

"That's just because you didn't think you could do any better," Ron said, slapping him on the back, "Which you obviously _could_, seeing as how you're now going with my sister – which I'm still not okay with, by the way."

"Do I have to remind you that _you_ wanted to ask Hermione?" Neville replied, trying not to dwell on Ron's statement.

"I didn't _want_ to ask her," Ron clarified, "I just figured it would be easier if I _did_ ask her. I figured she'd have fewer options, so she might be more willing to accept. If you think about it, really, I was trying to do her a favor…offering her a way out, so she wouldn't look pathetic at the Ball when she couldn't get a date."

"Except she _could_ and _did_ get a date," Neville said with a wry grin.

"Yeah…awfully ungrateful of her," Ron muttered, "Getting a date before I could do her a favor and all…"

"I reckon you'll be the one looking pathetic and dateless," Neville chuckled, seeming to enjoy the irony.

"Oi! Not funny!" Ron yelled, glaring hard at his friend.

"It was a little funny," Neville said, bashfully.

Ron glared at him, but all Neville could do was grin.

"You could always ask Eloise Midgen," Neville suggested.

"Ha-ha, very funny, Neville," Ron growled amidst Neville's sniggers, "Seeing as you want to date my little sister, Neville, you really should try not to be such a prat to me right now."

"I'm not asking to date your sister," Neville explained, "All I did was invite her to the Ball."

"And that better be all it is," Ron warned, "Just an invitation to one Ball."

Neville and Ron's counterpary walked on down the hall in uncomfortable silence and entered Charms class as the memory swirled before Ron's eyes and started to morph into a new one.

_"Whoever came up with the idea for that stupid Yule Ball should have gotten a lifetime sentence in Azkaban Prison," _Ron grumbled, as he knew the memory of his own disastrous Yule Ball would be with him forever.

As if picking up on his thoughts, Ron found himself suddenly in the midst of a Great Hall with walls that had been covered in sparkling silver frost, with hundreds of garlands of mistletoe and ivy crossing the starry black ceiling. The House tables were gone, and instead, there were about a hundred smaller, lantern-lit ones, each seating about a dozen people.

Couples were happily dancing in the middle of the Hall to the musical stylings of the Weird Sisters, although not everyone, apparently, had been able to secure a date. Ron was very glad to see that he wasn't the only one coming stag to the Yule Ball; Draco Malfoy and his goons Crabbe and Goyle were dateless as well.

While Crabbe and Goyle were busily stuffing their maws with various treats from the refreshments table, Ron noticed that Malfoy was currently glaring jealously at one particular couple doing their turn on the dance floor. To his surprise, the couple Malfoy was glaring at was Harry Potter and Pansy Parkinson.

"Oi, Malfoy!" Ron called out in a jeering sort of voice, "What's the matter…did Potter snatch Parkinson right out from under your nose and there were no more pug-faced girls left for _you_ in all of Slytherin?"

"Shut your mouth, Weasley!" Draco snarled. He kept his eyes locked on the two Slytherins as they danced, awkwardly, to the music, "Besides, I don't see _your_ date. What's wrong…did no one want to dance with someone so poor they had to wear _that_?!"

Ron glared evilly at Malfoy. He hadn't been that far off…not that Ron had actually _asked_ many girls. There was Fleur Delacour, of course, but Ron blamed _that_ fiasco on her being a Veela. He'd been making a fool of himself ever since Halloween when she first arrived. The truth was, with the exception of Hermione Granger, he didn't think anybody would be desperate enough to go with him. Of course, he'd completely missed the mark on _her_ not being able to get a date. He was starting to think that she should have taken Ginny's advice and asked that Ravenclaw from her Herbology class…Lana Love-something-or-other…

"What's wrong, Weaselbee…can't think of a witty comeback? Don't bother…I wouldn't want you to hurt yourself," Malfoy laughed.

Using two fingers to answer Malfoy instead of words, Ron turned and started to make his way to the refreshments table in search of a butterbeer or something to wash away the bad taste that formed in his mouth whenever he was around the pale-haired Slytherin.

_"I get that, too,"_ Ron thought as his counterpart walked away from Malfoy, _"Tastes like slugs."_

Malfoy, however, had not quite had his fill of harassing the redheaded boy in the horrible, maroon robes.

"Merlin's sake, Weasel, even that Mudblood cow _Granger_ could get a date…and a champion at that! Of course, if you'd heard some of the things _I've_ heard about Krum, you'd understand why he's with _her_," Malfoy chuckled evilly at his implied secret.

_"What? What have you heard?! Tell me, you bloody little ferret!"_ Ron tried to yell. Of course, no one could hear him.

Fourteen-year-old Ron walked away, determined to ignore the rubbish coming out of Malfoy's mouth. He couldn't help wondering _why_ Viktor Krum would invite Hermione Granger to the Ball when he could have had any witch he wanted! Finally, curiosity got the better of him, and against his better judgment Ron turned around and faced Malfoy.

"And just _what_ have you heard?"

Malfoy seemed almost giddy that Ron had taken the bait. "You never wondered why an eighteen-year-old Quidditch star would want to date a fourteen-year-old bookworm like that Mudblood?"

"She's fifteen," Ron corrected him, unsure as to why he did it, "Her birthday's in September."

Malfoy smirked broadly at Ron's revelation. "Are you the Mudblood's biographer, Weasley, or are you just _that_ observant when it comes to her? Or…do you maybe have a thing for Mudblood's? Not surprising, really, coming from a family of blood traitors like you do."

Ron drew his wand from within his robes and pressed it hard against Malfoy's chest.

"Call her a Mudblood again, Malfoy, and _see_ how observant I've been in Moody's class!" Ron hissed, glaring hatefully into the cold grey eyes of Draco Malfoy, "Now…either finish telling me what you've heard about Krum or bugger off and leave me alone; I don't care which at this point."

Malfoy looked worried for a moment before his smirk returned. "Alright, Weaselbee…no need for violence; it _is_ Christmas, after all. As for Krum…I heard he likes an easy conquest…a young witch, no friends, easily charmed by an older wizard…sound familiar? He shows her some interest and she's so desperate for the attention that he'll be able to convince her to do just about _anything_. It's a pretty brilliant scheme, actually. I'll have to try it some day."

"You're despicable, Malfoy," Ron snarled, moving away from the blonde-haired Slytherin once and for all.

He tried not to dwell on what Malfoy _supposedly_ heard about Viktor Krum. Ron wouldn't put it past Draco Malfoy to make something like that up just to start trouble. Even so, as Ron fetched himself a butterbeer from the refreshments table and found a place to sit and think, he couldn't help running Malfoy's words through his head over and over. After all, Viktor Krum could date any witch that he wanted. Why would a rich and famous international Quidditch star pick a shy and bookish girl who _hated_ Quidditch? The very notion was just…

"Completely sack-o'-hammers," Ron muttered, taking a pull off his butterbeer.

Hermione Granger seemed more suited to someone _normal_…a virtual nobody…somebody like Ron Weasley. He scowled as the idea popped into his head. The chance of something happening between the two of them was about the same as the chance of Snape jumping up on the Head Table and declaring his undying love for McGonagall.

Despite that amusing image, Ron continued to scowl, and the scowl deepened when he turned his attention away from Hermione Granger and Viktor Krum and focused it instead on his best friend and his little sister.

He was still very put-out that Neville had asked Ginny on a date…without his blessing, yet! They did seem to be having a good time, though…even though Neville appeared to be stepping on her feet every so often. At least they were keeping a respectable distance when they danced. He decided to cut Neville a break and give him a pass on this. He'd let him have one date with Ginny, but if he expected it to go any further, Neville was going to have to go through him and the rest of Ginny's brothers.

Ron finished his butterbeer and as his gaze traveled around the room, he noticed Hermione was sitting off to the side by herself and there was no sign of Viktor Krum. He decided that now was as good a time as any to get the answer to a question he wanted to ask. Feeling that Krum might return at any moment, Ron hurried over to where Hermione was seated.

"Oi, Granger!" he called out to her over the din of the music.

She rolled her eyes at the sound of his voice and when she finally looked at him, she started laughing hysterically.

"Oh my God! _Those_ are your _dress robes_?!" she said, laughing at the maroon monstrosity, "Please tell me you lost a bet or something!"

Ron's ears turned red and his jaw clenched in anger. Why did she always have to be like this? Did his actions over the last three years really cause him to deserve _this_?

"Thanks a lot, Granger," Ron said, trying to cover the hurt in his voice with anger, "I was going to say you looked nice tonight, but forget it!"

"Oh…" Hermione was taken aback and honestly looked as though she regretted laughing at him, "I'm --…"

"I said forget it," he grumbled, too hurt and angry to forgive her even if she did apologize, "I wanted to ask you a question."

"Oh…err…go ahead," she replied, looking nervous.

"How did you manage to snag Viktor Krum?" Ron asked. That wasn't the question he had _originally_ wanted to ask her, but she made him mad when she laughed at him, so this was the question that came out.

"I…what do you mean?!" Hermione's nervous expression clouded over and she looked to be on the verge of anger.

"You're okay for a regular bloke to date," he said, not necessarily _trying_ to be insulting, but he didn't really care one way or the other if he _was_ at this point, "But Viktor Krum is a Triwizard champion and an international Quidditch star; he could literally have any witch that he wants!"

"Meaning…?!" she snapped, balling up her fists.

"_Meaning_," he echoed, "What the Hell is he doing with you?!"

Hermione jumped to her feet and Ron stepped back, remembering a slap she had given him near the end of term last year. Instead of slapping him, however, she poked him in the chest…hard.

"I don't know what your _implying_," she yelled, continuing to poke him in the chest as she backed him towards the oaken doors leading out into the entrance hall, "But I didn't _snag_ Viktor! _He_ asked _me_! It just so happens that he likes girls of _substance_…girls like _me_! Maybe if you win your bet on the _next_ task, you'll have two sickles to rub together and you can _buy yourself a clue_ and see that a girl like me is _worth_ something! Something more than the beautiful, brain-dead slags _you_ are attracted to!!"

Hermione was in tears now, but Ron didn't care. She had made fun of his family's financial situation with that _'two sickles'_ comment, so he didn't care if he hurt her feelings or not.

"Shows how much _you_ know, you prissy little know-it-all!" he roared, slapping her hand away from his chest, "I just so happens that I --…"

"Vot is going on here? Vot is the meaning of all this yelling?"

Viktor Krum had returned. He had a bottle of butterbeer in each hand and his dark eyes flashed back and forth between Hermione and Ron. His face was etched with concern when he saw the tears rushing down Hermione's cheeks, and when he turned back to Ron his face was set firmly with anger.

"I do not know vot you haff done to upset Herm-own-ninny, but I vill not allow it to continue!" Krum said, waddling over duckfootedly towards Ron, "I do not vish to hurt you, boy, but I vill if you leaff me no choice."

A crowd was gathering and watching. He looked over at Neville and Ginny; she looked mad while Neville looked disappointed. His gaze moved back to Hermione who was standing behind Krum…she looked completely miserable and Ron felt as though he'd just ruined everyone's night and made a fool of himself to boot.

"I'm leaving," he said in a defeated sort of voice. Before anyone could say another word, Ron turned and left the Great Hall to the hoots and hollers of Draco Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle. It was a long, lonely trek up to the portrait of the Fat Lady and the common room beyond, and by the time he reached his dorm, he felt exhausted.

His confusing feelings concerning Hermione Granger were throwing his life into turmoil. He was attracted to her, but she hated him…that much was certain. He got ready for bed and lay above his covers gazing up at the ceiling.

"What am I going to do?" he asked the air, "After tonight, there's no way she'll ever give me a chance. She's going to hate me for the rest of my life."

He rolled over and looked out the window into the dark December night.

"But what if Malfoy was telling the truth and Krum is just trying to get what he wants from her…trying to use her? I should warn her…but she'd never believe me."

He rolled back over, kicking the mattress.

"Bloody stubborn know-it-all! Serves her right is Krum _did_ take advantage of her!"

The tolling of bells ringing throughout the school signaled that it was midnight; the Yule Ball was now over, and his roommates would soon be returning. Ron got under the covers and extinguished the lamp at his bedside.

"I'm done pining away for Granger…and Viktor Krum is dead to me…the great duck-footed, pumpkin-headed git!"

The sound of footsteps on the stone steps could be heard beyond the door as the memory started to fade and Ron found himself being cast into another one.

_"I guess no Ron Weasley anywhere has ever had a good experience at the bloody Yule Ball,"_ he grumbled as the boys' dorm disappeared and the dungeon corridor outside Potions class appeared, and Ron found himself walking behind a group of Slytherins on the way to Snape's dungeon.

"I can't believe you'd miss Draco more than _me_, Harry" Pansy Parkinson whined in a very unattractive way, "You should have been rescuing _me_ from the lake; _I_ was your date for the Yule Ball! You told me I was special!"

"That's because you kept _asking_ me if I thought you were special all night!" Harry said matter-of-factly, "I only asked you to the Ball because I was expected to have a date. I'd have preferred racing brooms with Draco all night."

Draco Malfoy broke out laughing at this and Crabbe and Goyle started chuckling thuggishly right after.

"Face it, Pansy…you're annoying," Draco sneered at the pug-faced blonde girl, "You whine too much and you're too needy. Harry needs someone who won't cling to him like a Devil's Snare!"

"I'm not clingy!" Pansy said in her shrill, whiny voice, "Am I clingy, Harry?"

"Yes, Pansy," Harry replied, sounding terribly bored, "You're horribly clingy, and you're really not my type."

"I'm blonde!" Pansy screeched, "You told me you _liked_ blondes!"

"I do like blondes, Pansy," the scar-headed Slytherin assured her, "Your hair is not the issue; it's the rest of you I don't find attractive."

Pansy Parkinson seemed beside herself at Harry's pronouncement, while the other three Slytherin boys walking with her and Harry seemed to find great comedy in her distress. Ron, too, found it funny, but for different reasons.

"So Potter," Ron called, causing the group of Slytherins to turn and face him…except for Pansy who huffed at the boys and continued on towards Snape's class, "If you're into blondes, and _Malfoy_ is the thing you'd miss most…does that mean the blonde you're into is _him_?"

Potter and Malfoy glared at Ron as he laughed, while Crabbe and Goyle just looked confused. Soon, though, Draco's glare turned into a smirk.

"I do believe the Weasel's jealous, Harry," Malfoy sneered, "He must realize that _no one_ would miss him if he was gone!"

"I do believe you're right, Draco," Harry replied, smiling cruelly, "Doesn't he have like twenty brothers and sisters? Who could miss one with so many others to take his place?"

"Shut it!" Ron growled, his jaw setting in anger.

"Oooh…touched a nerve, have we, Weaselbee?" Malfoy laughed, enjoying the fact that he had turned the tables on Ron. Crabbe and Goyle, as usual, chuckled alongside their ringleader, "Now that I think about it, though…if Weaselbee were gone, who would they pass all his brothers' clothes down to? Do they at least give you your own kegs, or are they hand-me-downs too?"

Ron pulled his wand out of his robes, but he was quickly staring down four wands pointing back at him.

"You shouldn't mess with us, Weasley," Harry Potter said, looking at Ron as if he was an insignificant fly, "I keep telling you that…but you're too stupid to get the message."

"Go bugger yourself, scar-head," Ron growled, "You strut around this school thinking you're untouchable…that you're Merlin's gift because once upon a time you survived You-Know-Who's _Killing Curse_. Well, all I have to say is You-Know-Who must have been a real shite-for-brains if he couldn't do you in."

"I'll be sure and let him know you said that next time I run into him," Harry said, glaring viciously at Ron.

Before Ron could say another word, the rustling of robes and the annoyed sneering voice of Professor Snape filled the hall. At the sound of his voice, Ron quickly pocketed his wand; the Slytherins didn't bother.

"I do hope you have an adequate reason for being late to my class once again, Mr. Weasley," the Potions Master said, "Twenty-five points from Gryffindor for tardiness and causing other students to be late. As for the rest of you, be late to my class again and you'll find yourselves losing points as well. Now…go!"

Ron didn't even bother to argue. What point was there? Snape would never cut a Gryffindor a fair break, let alone punish his own House. Ron moved on down the corridor, glowering at the Slytherins as he went. No matter the amount of rules he broke, Potter always came out on top…it was a situation Ron would rectify if only he could; but no one seemed to want to punish the Boy-Who-Lived. As long as Harry Potter was at Hogwarts, the Slytherins would rule the school.

"I wish he'd never gotten on that bloody train three years ago. My life would be better off without Harry Potter in it."

The memory started to fade and Ron couldn't help feeling sorry for his counterpart. Life without Harry Potter for this world's Ron would be a joy, but for himself it would be a nightmare.

The dank, grey stone of the Potions dungeon faded away to the dark sky outside. Ron found himself sitting in the bleachers of the Quidditch pitch looking down at the massive hedge-maze that served as the setting for the final task of the Triwizard Tournament.

It seemed like forever since Cedric Diggory had been pulled from the maze after sending up a shower of sparks with his wand to signal for help. Four champions had entered the maze for the final task of the Triwizard Tournament, and so far three of them had been pulled from the maze, unable to finish the task and find the Triwizard Cup. Only one remained: Harry Potter!

"It's all over but the cryin', now," said Seamus Finnegan, watching the maze's exit intently, "The only one left in there's Potter; looks like Slytherin wins again."

"Still…a win for Potter is a win for Hogwarts, yeah?" Neville was doing his best to look on the bright side.

"That's what you think," Ron grumbled, "A win for Potter is one more in a long series of the bloody Slytherins getting away with murder; they cheat to win and get rewarded for it."

"I take it you didn't bet on Potter to win then, eh Ron?" Dean Thomas quipped, smirking.

"Shut it, Dean," Ron growled, causing the other boys to laugh.

The four Gryffindors were sitting in the bleachers of the Quidditch stadium along with the rest of Hogwarts and the Beauxbatons and Durmstrang delegations. Every eye was glued to the exit of the enormous maze that now occupied the school's Quidditch pitch, waiting with baited breath to see if Harry Potter would complete the final task of the Triwizard Tournament and come away with the Triwizard Cup.

Well, not _every_ eye; the hard blue eyes of Ron Weasley had moved away from the exit – he lost his bet, so he didn't care of Potter won the Tournament – and began observing the sea of faces.

His gaze fell immediately on a bushy head of brown hair down on the field sitting next to a raven-haired woman and two raven-haired men. Hermione Granger was sitting next to Viktor Krum, patting his hand while he conversed with his parents in Bulgarian.

"Fraternizing with the enemy," Ron grumbled, shaking his head bitterly.

"What's that, Ron?" Neville asked, leaning closer to try and listen to what his friend was saying over the noise of the crowd.

"Granger's down there with her boyfriend…no doubt comforting him for _losing_," Ron said loudly, wishing his voice would carry enough for Hermione and Krum to hear him.

Neville opened his mouth and seemed about ready to say something when a flash of light at the maze exit drew his attention. Harry Potter had just appeared out of nowhere, holding the Triwizard Cup…Potter had just won the Triwizard Tournament.

"Bloody Hell," Ron groaned.

The crowd…at least the portion of the crowd from Hogwarts who viewed Potter's win as a win for the school…erupted in cheers, applause, and catcalls; it was a celebratory ruckus in Potter's honor.

The Slytherins poured from the stands to more closely celebrate with the man-of-the-hour. Dumbledore, too, and Cornelius Fudge himself, acting as one of the Tournament judges for the final task, rushed to Potter's side as the rest of Hogwarts decided to follow suit.

"Come on, Ron!" Neville urged, grabbing Ron's arm and dragging him towards the field, "Hogwarts won the Triwizard Tournament!"

Ron grumbled at his best friend, but it was lost amongst the din of the crowd. He followed Neville towards the center of the commotion where Harry Potter was, apparently, explaining his sudden appearance while being congratulated by the masses.

"…Cup was a Portkey. It took me straight into the clutches of the Dark Lord himself."

"Are you saying…Voldemort is back?" Dumbledore asked, blue eyes full of shock and worry. Several nearby students gasped at the sound of You-Know-Who's name being spoken.

"Preposterous!" Fudge exclaimed in total disbelief.

"Hardly," Harry snapped, glaring at Fudge, "I saw his loyal Death Eaters restore his body with my own two eyes…and then I killed him."

"You what?" Dumbledore looked completely beside himself, "How did you manage that?"

"Lord Voldemort sought to duel me too soon after his restoration; he wasn't strong enough," Potter said in a cold voice, a smile drawing up his lips, "The effort was too much and he died as a result of our battle."

"How, _exactly_, did Voldemort meet his end, Mr. Potter?" Dumbledore asked impatiently.

"_Lord_ Voldemort fell in the same manner as before," Potter said, his voice tinted with contempt, "He cast the _Killing Curse_, but as happened thirteen years ago, the spell rebounded, and as he was in a weakened state, he was slain."

"Are you sure?" the headmaster replied, his eyes flashing strangely.

"Of course," Potter answered, grinning, "Now…if you don't mind, I do believe I have just _won_ this tournament…for the glory of Slytherin!"

Harry Potter raised the Triwizard Cup high into the air and a raucous cheer went up from the Slytherins in the crowd. Crabbe and Goyle lumbered forward and hoisted him up on their shoulders and began carrying Harry Potter around the pitch like a conquering hero.

"Potter!" Moody growled before the Slytherin goons had gone too far, "I want to see you in my office when all the pomp-and-circumstance is over!"

"Of course, _Professor_," Harry replied with a grin.

"What'd I tell ya', Nev?" Ron said as the Slytherins began following Harry toward the dais where Ludo Bagman from the Ministry's Department of Magical Sports and Games would be awarding him his winnings and the title of Tournament Champion, "A win for Potter is a win for Slytherin…and _only_ Slytherin!"

"Still…do you really think he killed You-Know-Who?" Neville asked, sounding hopeful.

"Neville," Ron said, glaring at Potter across the field, "If that slimy git did _anything_ to You-Know-Who, it was lick his boots. Potter's lying…I'd bet my life on it!"

_"Don't look now,"_ Ron thought as the memory started to fade, _"But I think you just did."_

The Quidditch pitch disappeared from view and Ron now found himself in his bedroom at the Burrow, standing in front of his mirror, admiring the way a certain scarlet-and-gold badge looked as it glinted up at him from his faded old school robes.

"Prefect," he said, looking at his reflection, "Who'd have ever thought I'd make prefect?"

_"Nobody, you great preening prat,"_ Ron grumbled, remember his own receipt of the prefect's badge, _"Not one of them think you're worth it! And look at you…acting like Percy for Merlin's sake! There'll be no help for it if the twins see you!"_

"And just think…as soon as Mum gets back I'll be the proud owner of a brand-new broom! No hand-me-down Shooting Star…not this time! The Cleansweep Eleven!" Ron moved across the room, taking off his robes and laying them across the back of his chair, "Who knows…I might even make the Quidditch team on my new broom…"

He flopped down on his bed and began tossing an old, deflated Muggle football up in the air and catching it over and over again, imagining himself defending the goal hoops for the Gryffindor House team.

A sudden loud _bang_ from downstairs startled Ron and caused him to drop the ball as it fell back towards him. He sat up quickly, grabbing his wand.

"What the bloody Hell was that?"

He got up and left his room, making his way down the rickety, winding stairs. The house was quiet except for Ron's breathing and the sound of movement coming from the ground floor. He hurried down, wondering if his mother had come home and dropped something, or if perhaps the twins were back and had set off some new prank of theirs.

"Mum, is that you?" Ron called as he descended to the ground floor. The front door of the Burrow was hanging off its hinges, and he knew immediately that it was not his mother he heard in the house.

_"Oh God…this is it,"_ Ron gasped as he realized what memory he was being shown now.

A floorboard creaked behind him, and Ron turned in time to see a cloaked figure step into the room and raise his wand.

_"Avada Kedavra!"_

A flash of green light filled the room and Ron seemed blinding by its brilliance. When the green light faded, there was nothing…nothing back blackness as the memories came to a sudden unavoidable stop.

Ron Weasley was dead.

* * *

**AUTHOR'S END NOTES: **And there you have it...one dead Weasley. I think I might miss AU Ron just a little bit...the poor sod.

Let me know what you thought of the chapter if you want. As I said above, I reply to all my reviewers.

Chapter 8 is well under way, and after I get home from my night hanging out with "The Fellas" tonight, I'll get back to work on it...and with faith, trust, and a little pixie dust, I should have it out to you fine readers within a fortnight.

See you then!

~Hawk~


	8. Broken Mirror

**AUTHOR'S NOTES: **Okay. I don't know what the flim-flam-dangle just happened, but FanFiction ATE the A/N I just spent the last hour writing! It tells me it was successfully saved, and YET here I am with a **_BLANK FRICKIN' AUTHOR'S NOTE!!!!!!_** I'm pissed. I'm bloody pissed and this ain't funny!!!

**DISCLAIMER: **JKR's, not mine.

**

* * *

**

**_MIRROR, MIRROR  
_Chapter 8  
"Broken Mirror"**

The sudden cessation of the memories hit Ron like a thunderbolt to the brain. He started to convulse violently in the chair, shaking so badly that he fell to the cold washroom floor and promptly vomited.

"Sweet Merlin…I-I just died…" Ron whimpered, tears rolling down his cheeks, "S-somebody help me…"

"Mr. Weasley!" Dumbledore called, pulling him up off the floor with surprising strength for someone who looked so frail. He put Ron back in his seat and then quickly waved his wand to clean up the vomit both on the floor and on Ron's clothes, "Ronald, listen to me, please! You're not dead…do you understand?"

Ron was shaking too badly to answer and Dumbledore was forced to cast several _Calming Charms_ on him before he regained enough composure to communicate.

"Can you hear me now, Mr. Weasley?" Dumbledore asked, leaning over him and looking Ron in the eye, smiling apologetically, "I'm sorry, Ronald…I should have warned you about the final memory."

"Y-you knew it would f-feel r-real?" Ron asked, digging his fists into his eyes to wipe away his tears.

"I had an inkling, yes," the headmaster responded, frowning.

"Thanks for the w-warning," Ron replied bitterly, giving Dumbledore a mutinous look.

"I _am_ sorry, Mr. Weasley," Dumbledore sighed, sitting down in his own chair once more, his shoulders sagging tiredly, "Would you like to discuss what you saw in the _other_ Mr. Weasley's memories?"

"You _do_ know Harry's lying, right?" Ron asked, the tremors running through his body finally subsiding.

"About _what_, Mr. Weasley?" the headmaster still looked tired, but his eyes were twinkling again.

"About the basilisk, for one thing," Ron said, thinking back to the memories that had been flashing through his mind, "It took the Sword of Gryffindor to kill the basilisk on my world…no way _this_ world's Harry killed it with a wand."

"I see," the old professor said, nodding and stroking his beard, "Anything else?"

"I doubt very much he killed You-Know-Who, either," Ron continued, "On my world he barely escaped with his life.

"Is there more?" Dumbledore asked, with rapt attention.

"Bloody Hell…Moody!" Ron exclaimed, jumping forward in his seat, as if about to launch up out of it, "He's an impostor, Professor! He's a Death Eater named Barty Crouch, Jr.! He killed his father! You have to stop him…he's got the real Moody locked in a trunk!"

"If what you are saying is true, Mr. Weasley, then Barty Crouch, Jr. is no longer masquerading as Alastor Moody," Dumbledore replied, sounding grim.

"Oh, good," Ron sighed, not noticing the headmaster's tone, "So, you caught him, then?"

"Unfortunately…no; Alastor Moody was found dead in his quarters at Hogwarts shortly before the end-of-term banquet," the old wizard explained, looking tired, "It appeared as though he had died in his sleep…an ignominious end for a former Auror such as Moody."

"Bloody Hell…" Ron said unbelievingly.

"Indeed, Mr. Weasley," Dumbledore nodded solemnly, "It would appear, if you are correct, that Barty Crouch, Jr. no longer has need of disguising himself as Alastor Moody."

"So…he's out there somewhere?" Ron asked nervously, "He's completely mental…Harry told me about him…he's totally devoted to You-Know-Who; he'd do anything for him!"

"Then Voldemort has yet another loyal and capable ally," Dumbledore said, pretending not to notice Ron shuddering as he said the Dark Lord's name, "Another agent to aid him in his dark deeds…another stepping stone in his rise to power."

"Then you don't believe Harry killed him, either?" Ron asked, looking relieved.

"You believe Mr. Potter to be lying?" the professor asked, answering Ron's question with a question.

"My world's Harry barely managed to escape with his life back in June," Ron explained, "I can't see him managing to kill You-Know-Who _here_ just because he's a Slytherin."

"Very astute, Mr. Weasley," the headmaster smiled, "You are much more observant than you are given credit for."

"Yeah, I'm not as dumb as I look," Ron said wryly, "But I still don't know why you dragged me away from my world and brought me _here_."

Dumbledore gazed at Ron appraisingly for a moment or two, making the redheaded boy nervous and uncomfortable, and he squirmed under the headmaster's scrutiny.

"Do you recall the memory that took place following the Welcoming Feast…with Professor Trelawney?" the bearded wizard asked, "Do you remember what happened?"

Ron nodded. "She came in and started going about blood traitors and the chosen one and the dark lord; she seemed a bit pissed to me."

"Professor Trelawney was not intoxicated, Mr. Weasley," Professor Dumbledore said humorlessly, his eyes flashing sternly for a moment and making Ron uncomfortable again, "Sybil Trelawney is a seer, Ronald, and that night in the Great Hall she had a vision."

"A vision?" Ron echoed, "So that was…"

"A prophecy," Dumbledore said, nodding, "It is not the first _true_ prophecy that Professor Trelawney has given, though I must admit it _was_ the most widely observed."

"Does that mean…the things she said…are they going to happen?" Ron asked, trying to think back to the exact words of the prophecy.

"Possibly…the future is always subject to change, of course…our actions dictate the outcome of our every experience," Dumbledore said cryptically, "Do you know of whom the prophecy spoke?"

"Well, 'the Dark Lord' is a bit obvious, isn't it?" Ron said, thinking back to the memory of the prophecy in the Great Hall, "That would be You-Know-Who…"

"Indeed, it would…" Dumbledore nodded.

"And the blood traitor…well…that would anyone from a pureblood family who doesn't hold with the old blood purity beliefs…someone who doesn't discriminate against half-bloods and Muggle-borns…"

"And do you know anyone like that, Mr. Weasley?" Dumbledore asked, half-smiling as he watched Ron working things out.

"Well, yeah," Ron nodded, "My whole family…"

"Exactly!" the old headmaster said excitedly, his eyes twinkling as Ron got nearer and nearer to the end of this particular road.

"So, you're saying this prophecy is about someone in my family?" Ron asked, eyes wide with shock and a touch of fear.

"The prophecy was more specific, if you recall, Mr. Weasley," Dumbledore said, wanting to get Ron narrowed in on the right family member, "The beginning of the prophecy spoke of someone with 'the purest of blood and the humblest of hearts'; does anyone in your family fit that description?"

"Humble…in my family?" Ron laughed sardonically, "None of my brothers, that's for sure…and Ginny…well…she's a bit spoiled from being the baby and the only girl. Dad's pretty humble…don't know if you'd consider Mum humble or not…I mean…she's not showy, but…"

"There is another Weasley, Ronald," Dumbledore said softly, "Who has never been one to grab the spotlight, no matter how much he might crave it."

"You don't mean me…?" Ron asked, eyes wide as understanding finally blossomed within his brain.

"I do, indeed," Dumbledore nodded.

"I'm an idiot," Ron said bitterly.

"I'm sorry?" the aged headmaster looked surprised at the sudden statement.

"Of course it's me!" Ron exclaimed, jumping to his feet and pacing like a caged lion, "Why else would you take me from my world and bring me here to replace your _dead_ Ron Weasley if you didn't need one of us to fulfill this prophecy of yours?!"

"Finally, we have come to the crux of the matter," Dumbledore nodded, his features once more looking tired, "Do you know who the Chosen One is, Ronald?"

"No," the ginger-haired boy replied, shaking his head, "But if it's got anything to do with You-Know-Who, I reckon it might be talking about Harry."

"Once again, I am impressed with your powers of observation and intuition, Mr. Weasley," Dumbledore replied, "As you no doubt saw through the _other_ Ronald Weasley's memories, Harry Potter is not the heroic young boy he is on your world."

"He's a right evil little prat, he is," Ron agreed, nodding, "The Harry _I_ know would kick his ar--…err…bum…kick his bum."

"With you and Miss Granger faithfully by his side as always, no doubt," the professor nodded, smiling slightly at Ron's penchant for inappropriate language, "This world's Harry Potter did not have the influence of Miss Granger and yourself to help him become the hero _you_ know him to be on your world, and the unfortunate circumstances that surrounded him have made him…susceptible…to Voldemort's siren call."

"So that's it then…Harry's definitely working for You-Know-Who…?" Ron looked frightened as he considered that prospect: his best friend, You-Know-Who's minion.

"Nothing is ever definite, Ronald…all things may change with time," Dumbledore responded, infuriatingly vague and cryptic, "However, all signs do seem to point that way."

"And you brought me here to…what…make him like the Harry I know?" Ron asked, dropping back into his seat as the enormity of the situation and the task that lay ahead of him weighed down on his shoulders, "How the bloody Hell am I supposed to do _that_?! I'm just the stupid sidekick…I crack jokes and make sure everyone has a laugh every now and again…you need the brains of the outfit…you need Hermione for this!"

"Mr. Weasley…Ronald…you are by no means stupid, and you are far-and-away _more_ than merely comedic relief. Without you, Harry Potter would have never known true friendship…he would have never known the love of a family…your unwavering loyalty and your bravery are what drew me to seek you out above all the other Ron Weasleys living throughout the infinite number of parallel universes in existence."

"Without you as his sidekick, as you like to call yourself, Harry Potter would not have become the hero you know. Surely the memories you've seen tonight are proof enough of that!"

"If you knew you were going to need a Ron Weasley to help make Harry switch sides," Ron said a bit harshly, "Why didn't you protect the one you had?"

Dumbledore sighed and shook his head, his eyes showing defeat instead of the twinkle Ron had grown accustomed to on his own world, "An error in judgment. Ronald Weasley was being guarded around the clock by associates of mine…"

"You mean the Order," Ron said, interrupting.

"Yes, Ronald," the professor nodded, "A member of the Order of the Phoenix was charged with standing guard over Ronald Weasley twenty-four hours a day until such time that a secure facility could be established as the Order's secret headquarters."

"What about Number 12?" Ron asked, "Aren't you using Sirius' home on Grimauld Place?"

Dumbledore smiled wryly and nodded, "I keep forgetting you are much more in-the-know than our own Mr. Weasley was. Yes, indeed, Ronald, we are using the Black family manor as our base of operations…however, it wasn't until _after_ Ronald's death that the house was made available to us. And unfortunately the person chosen to guard your counterpart until the house was available was…less-than-reliable." As he said this, Dumbledore frowned bitterly.

"Sounds like 'Dung," Ron laughed, "He abandoned his post on my world and Harry wound up getting attacked by Dementors near his uncle's house in Surrey."

"I see you are familiar with Mundungus Fletcher," the headmaster said, nodding, "He left his post early to seek --…"

"A 'business opportunity'," Ron interrupted, grimacing.

"I'm sorry," Dumbledore said, shaking his head, "Had I known he would be so irresponsible…had someone else been watching Mr. Weasley…I would never have needed to drag you into this."

"And you can't just send me home?" Ron asked, looking hopeful.

"I…am afraid not," Dumbledore said, hesitating slightly, "Until you fulfill the prophecy, the _Borrowing_ spell which brought you here will not reverse itself."

"I wish Hermione was here," Ron said clasping his hands and looking down at the floor, "She's so much better at spells and research and potions and anything else that might be needed for this job you've given me."

"Perhaps," Dumbledore nodded, "But I have watched you, Ronald…you are much more formidable in high pressure situations than Miss Granger…perhaps it is the chess player in you."

Ron laughed; a bitter bark of a laugh, "Right, well, that's it then…I'll challenge Harry to a chess match…loser switches sides."

"Ronald, please…this is not a time for sarcasm…" Dumbledore said, frowning. It was obvious he felt bad for the seemingly impossible task he was putting before the young man sitting in front of him.

"No…maybe not," Ron said, shrugging, "But I think it might be a time for sleep…I feel completely spent. I think I need to sleep on all this…maybe it won't look as cocked-up in the light of day."

"That is an excellent idea, Mr. Weasley," Dumbledore replied, clapping him on the shoulder, "A good night's sleep can cure a world of ills…it can rejuvenate one's soul. But I must insist that you tell no one of what we have discussed here tonight. We must behave as though everything is as it should be; no one must be allowed to suspect that you are not this universe's Ron Weasley. Only by achieving our objectives here and completing your mission will you be able to return to your own world. No one can know that you have met with me tonight."

"Who would I tell?" Ron shrugged, getting to his feet, "I'm all alone here."

Ron's head was swimming as he left the Prefects' Bathroom. Everything Professor Dumbledore had told him and everything the aging headmaster had shown him seemed completely ridiculous – parallel dimensions, alternate universes, infinite Earths. The very concept was too complex for him to grasp; it boggled his mind, and Ron couldn't help wondering if even Hermione, in all her brilliance, would be able to make heads-or-tails of it all.

"Who'm I kidding? Of course she would, she's Hermione…she's a bloody _genius_!" Ron snorted to himself as he made his way down the hall towards the stairs leading up to the Seventh Floor, "She'd probably be able to dumb it down and explain it so even _I_ could understand it, too."

Thinking of Hermione made Ron homesick, and he started to pine away for the two best friends he left behind. He didn't know if he would ever get to see them again, and he missed them terribly. Dumbledore said that the _"Borrowing"_ spell he used would not permit him to return home until his purpose in _this_ dimension was fulfilled. Unfortunately, Ron had no idea how long it would take to fulfill, since Dumbledore had yet to explain to him _how_ to fulfill that purpose.

Worse than just being ripped from the comfort of home and the presence of his friends, Ron had left with bad feelings between himself and Hermione. They had never resolved the row they'd had in King's Cross before he was _Borrowed_, and a great feeling of guilt overwhelmed him because of it. What if he never saw her again? Would she forgive the harsh words he had said? Could he forgive the things she had said to him?

He figured that he would _have_ to forgive her; after all, what she had said was the truth, and this world was the proof. Ron's mind flashed back to the heated and hurtful conversation that had been raging between them before he rushed off to the men's restroom to nurse his bruised ego.

_"I'm starting to think the only reason you and I even associate with one another is our mutual friendship with Harry."_

_"But…"_

_"I seriously doubt that you and I would even speak to each other if we weren't both friends with Harry."_

_"You're wrong. You and I _are_ friends, Hermione…with or without Harry."_

But it wasn't Hermione who had been wrong; Ron had seen what it would have been like without Harry around during First Year when his tentative friendship with Hermione had first formed. It wasn't pretty; in fact, it was horrible. He could never imagine himself acting that way, but there he was, in memory-after-memory, being more-and-more hateful to the girl he, himself, had come to secretly care so much about. A girl who, on this world, now despised him and who, on his own world, in his estimation at least, not only thought he was worthless as a friend but as a person as well.

"They're probably better off without me," Ron muttered as he thought of his friends back home.

Ron's self-pity was cut short by a sharp hiss from several yards in front of him. He looked up to see Mr. Filch's cat, Mrs. Norris, blocking his path to the stairs and glaring at him with her huge lamp-like eyes.

The redheaded boy cursed under his breath. It was nearly Two O'clock in the morning – well past curfew, whether he was a prefect or not. Dumbledore had told him to keep everything they had discussed…their very meeting, in fact…a complete and utter secret, so he couldn't very well use "a bathroom conference with the headmaster" as an excuse.

In fact, as he put those words together, forming a sentence in his head, they sounded somewhat ridiculous. Who would believe he was having a world-changing discussion with Dumbledore in the bathroom of all places?

Ron was quickly snatched out of such a random thought, however, by the keening wails of the caretaker's cat in front of him. The sound was like a rusty fork being drawn down a blackboard, and Ron simply stood there, frozen on the spot. The voice he heard next, however, moments after the caterwauling had stopped, spurred Ron into action and he tore off down the hall in the direction opposite that of Mrs. Norris.

"I'm coming, my pet," Filch's nasally voice echoed off the stone walls as he skulked towards his cat, "Have you found one of those retched little students out of bed after hours? Perhaps we'll get to beat the hideous little child before turning them over for punishment."

Ron dove through a tapestry that he knew concealed a secret passageway, thankful that the layout of Hogwarts seemed to be the same in both universes lest he barrel head-first into a tapestry that concealed nothing but a skull-cracking stone wall. He ran as fast as he could down the dark passage, trying to gain as much distance as possible, knowing that Filch knew the castle's secrets pretty well – it was his job, after all – so the sadistic caretaker would undoubtedly be right behind him.

Blasting out through another tapestry onto a back hallway, Ron found himself near a set of stone steps. These steps only came up as far as the Fifth Floor, however, so there was no chance of taking them up to Gryffindor Tower. Running down the stairs to the next landing, Ron intended to cut across the Fourth Floor corridor and backtrack towards the main staircase and take _that_ to the Seventh Floor where the portrait of the Fat Lady guarded the Gryffindor entrance.

That was Ron's plan, at least, until he came across Peeves the Poltergeist pulling globs of the most vile-smelling mud out of a burlap sack that he carried and smearing it across the canvases of the paintings lining the walls of the hallway. The occupants of the paintings were protesting loudly at this sort of mistreatment, but Peeves continued on with his mischief cackling happily to himself until he caught sight of Ron skidding to a halt in the corridor in front of him.

"Student out of bed!!" Peeves cackled, reaching into the burlap sack and producing a large ball of mud that he proceeded to throw at Ron, "A Weasley student's flown the coop, so Peevesie'll cover him with poop!"

Ron dodged out of the way of the disgusting ball of mud, and only as it splattered on the floor and Ron got a good look (and a regretful whiff) at it, did he realize that it wasn't mud…it was dragon dung!

Before Ron could take the time to ponder where a poltergeist might get his hands on a sack of dragon dung in the middle of the Scottish highlands, the poltergeist in question began singing at the top of his lungs (did a poltergeist _have_ lungs?) and tossing more dung in Ron's direction.

_"Weasel, Weasel, hair so bright,_

_Running hallways late at night,_

_Not even prefects have that right,_

_You don't belong, so have some shite!"_

Ron dove through yet another tapestry just as Peeves lobbed the entire sack of manure at him. Unfortunately for Ron, this tapestry didn't conceal a secret hallway, but a hidden staircase, and by the time he had tumbled all the way to the bottom, Ron was bruised, battered, and somewhat bloody.

He had landed on his face at the bottom of the stone steps, and as he pulled himself gingerly to his feet and looked back up the way he had come, he was immensely thankful that the extent of his blood-loss was just a trickle from a busted lip.

Limping just a bit, Ron moved slowly out from behind a fourth tapestry and found himself on the Second Floor corridor. He sighed as he began making his way back towards the main staircase near the center of the castle. The further down he went, the better his chances of being caught trying to get all the way up to the Seventh Floor again.

Doing his best to move quickly and quietly, Ron made his way along the Second Floor hallway; he was passing the girls' lavatory…nearly halfway to his destination of the main staircase…when a familiar-sounding keening had him practically jumping out of his shoes.

Ron whipped around and looked behind him, expecting to see Mrs. Norris glaring at him, but the hall was empty. From the direction of the hidden stairwell Ron had fallen down, he could hear the sounds of far-off shouting; Filch had obviously come across Peeves and his dragon dung.

Ron breathed a sigh of relief; no doubt Filch would have his hands full cleaning up the mess made by the troublesome little mischief-spirit, and that meant he, Ron, wouldn't have to worry about Filch catching _him_…at least for a little while.

He leaned against the wall, next to the girls' bathroom door, in order to catch his breath. His knee was throbbing and his side was tender after his tumble down two floors' worth of stone stairs. Ron was tempted to take a trip to the hospital wing; of course, at this time of night, Madam Pomfrey would be full of questions that Ron just didn't want to have to answer.

Another loud, woeful wail sent shivers up-and-down Ron's spine and had him searching the corridor for some sign of Mrs. Norris…until he realized the sound was coming from the girls' bathroom.

"Moaning Myrtle's really got herself in a strop tonight," Ron chuckled as he realized just where he was and thought back to Second Year when Hermione had brewed Polyjuice Potion in this particular bathroom.

Yet another despairing screech came echoing from the beyond the lavatory door, and as much as Ron wanted to get out of there and return to Gryffindor Tower and get some rest, his curiosity was piqued, and he just had to see what had gotten the schoolgirl ghost so distraught.

Quietly opening the door, Ron poked his head in, looking around for the howling ghost. When he didn't see Moaning Myrtle right away, Ron limped into the lavatory, keeping his eyes peeled for the temperamental ghost.

This time, when the mournful howl sounded, it was so close and so loud that Ron inadvertently jumped back. It was coming from inside one of the toilet stalls, and as he carefully approached it, Ron realized that it sounded nothing like Moaning Myrtle.

Ron pulled his wand from his robe a he cast a glance over his shoulder at the bank of sinks across the room; this was the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets, he suddenly remembered, and there was no telling what might be on the other side of that stall door.

"What are you doing in my bathroom?!"

Ron jumped as Moaning Myrtle literally appeared out of nowhere and began screeching at him. She floated up to him, an angry look across her face. For a second Ron was poised to remind her that this wasn't his first time in her lavatory, until he remembered that the whole Polyjuice Potion/Chamber of Secrets episode didn't happen here.

"Err…sorry, Myrtle," Ron said, trying to come up with a reasonable explanation for his presence, "I was just…err…dodging Filch, you see, and…"

"I don't mind," Myrtle said, suddenly changing her demeanor and smiling as she batted her eyelashes at him, "I like it when boys come to visit me."

"Err…do boys visit you often?" Ron asked, taken aback. He seemed to recall everyone…boys and girls alike…avoiding Myrtle's bathroom like spattergroit.

"Oh no, not usually," the ghost, replied, her voice full of despair, "Usually everyone ignores poor Myrtle…because everyone _hates_ me!!"

Ron's eyes widened as Myrtle raised her voice and seemed about ready to throw a tantrum and flood the bathroom, "Err…we don't hate you, Myrtle," Ron said, trying to think of something to tell the ghost that wouldn't get her started with the, literally, waterworks, "But…err…you see…if boys were caught visiting you, we'd get in trouble."

"Oh no, don't want to get into _trouble_," Myrtle said sweetly, before her face screwed up into a mask of anger, "Wouldn't want to risk a punishment for disgusting old dead Myrtle!!!"

Before Ron could reply, the howling cry from inside one of the stalls could be heard again. Ron's attention was immediately drawn away from Myrtle and he turned back to face the toilet stall, aiming his wand at the door.

"What the bloody Hell is _that_?!" Ron asked Myrtle, keeping his eyes locked on the wooden stall door beyond which the dreadful noise originated.

"That's my darling new pet," Myrtle cooed, giggling.

Ron shot her a look that said he thought she was completely cracked.

"Since when do you have a pet, Myrtle?"

"Oh…Myrtle's not _allowed_ to have a pet, is that it?" she screeched, railing at him and floating up to get into his face again, "Only the _living_ can have pets! Myrtle doesn't get one because she's dead!!!"

"What kind of pet is it?" Ron asked, rolling his eyes. It really was much too late at night, and he'd had to deal with way too much already to have to put up with a temperamental ghost.

Myrtle giggled, once again going from distraught and angry to flirtatious and bubbly in the course of a few scant seconds. "It's a precious kitten…he's just the cutest thing!"

"In a toilet?" Ron asked, flabbergasted that she would be keeping some poor animal trapped in the school's plumbing.

"I live in the toilet!" Myrtle snapped, once again back to angry, "Or is the U-bend only good enough for measly, miserable, Moaning Myrtle?!"

The creature in the stall let out another mournful yowl, and Ron moved closer to the cubicle, wand still trained on the door, just in case Myrtle's idea of a "precious kitten" was something Hagrid would use for his Care of Magical Creatures class – a manticore, or a chimera or some such.

"Come and see," Myrtle urged, giggling as he floated through the door to the cubicle.

"Actually," Ron said, looking from the ghost to the door leading out of the bathroom, "Maybe I should just leave…err…it's late, you see, and I really need to --…"

"COME AND SEE MY PET!!!" Myrtle screamed, sticking her head back through the stall door, her eyes furious and her face a mask of rage.

He was letting himself be bullied by a petulant and ill-tempered ghost, and Ron wasn't quite sure why he didn't just do an about-face and quit the bathroom; Merlin knows the longer he remained outside Gryffindor Tower, the better his chances of being caught and punished.

Still, morbid curiosity is _still_ curiosity, and Ron's was piqued. He pushed open the wooden door to the cubicle and entered, being reminded immediately of Second Year, when Hermione brewed Polyjuice Potion in this very stall.

Myrtle was floating above the toilet, near the back wall; her expression kept shifting from mischievous giddiness when she looked at him to open adoration as she gazed down into the bowl of the toilet.

Steeling himself for the horror within, Ron took one final step forward just as the poor creature gave another sorrowful yowl. Ron wasn't quite sure what he was expecting from Moaning Myrtle's "pet", but this certainly wasn't it.

Fairly _stuffed_ into the toilet, its head barely above the toilet's water level was a drowned-looking ginger cat gazing up at him pleadingly with its great yellow eyes.

"Bloody Hell…Crookshanks!" Ron exclaimed, pocketing his wand and plunging his hands into the toilet without a second thought to try and extract the cat, "How'd he get here?!"

"The two boys gave him to me," Myrtle giggled.

"What two boys?" Ron snapped, angry that anyone would do something so cruel to Hermione's pet.

"The two large, lumbering boys," Myrtle cooed as if smitten, "The ones with the burly arms and blank expressions."

"Sounds like Crabbe and Goyle…" Ron said, more to himself than to Myrtle, "Was that blonde ferret, Malfoy, with them?"

"They were alone…except for my sweet little kitty," Myrtle chirped, "He was asleep when they brought him in, so they stuffed him in the toilet and when I came out to ask them what they were doing, they said they brought me a pet. Such wonderful boys," she sighed, and then her visage hardened and she glared at Ron, "_They_ brought me a present…why didn't _you_?!"

"Because it's not your bloody birthday!" Ron shouted, trying unsuccessfully to lift Crookshanks out of the toilet. The cat wouldn't budge.

"Not my _birthday_?!" Myrtle screeched, "It's not Myrtle's birthday because she's _dead_!! Let's all laugh and point at Myrtle because dead girls don't get birthdays!!"

"Let's all shut the bloody Hell _up_ while _Ron_ tries to get this bloody _cat_ out of this bloody _toilet_!!" Ron yelled, aggravated beyond the point of remaining calm.

"You won't be able to," Myrtle laughed spitefully, "They stuck him in there with a spell!"

"Well that just bloody well figures, doesn't it?!" Ron shouted at the ghost girl.

Ron pulled his hands out of the toilet and took his wand out of his pocket. He stood there for a moment, trying to think of the best spell to use. When he'd decided on one, Ron leaned back over the toilet where Crookshanks continued to look up at him, mewling pathetically.

"I'm sorry, Crookshanks," Ron said as he stuck the tip of his wand into the toilet, "This may get a bit…warm."

_"Relashio!"_

A heated blast of water shot forth from Ron's wand, churning up the water in the toilet and surrounding the miserable-looking cat in a cloud of bubbles. When the spell ran its course, the sopping wet ginger cat fairly launched itself out of the toilet that had been its prison and into the arms of the ginger-haired boy who was now his rescuer.

"Alright, Crookshanks, I've got you," Ron laughed, despite the fact that hiss robes were now drenched in toilet water and wet cat hair, "Let's get you dried off…"

"Put him back!" Myrtle wailed, keeping pace with him as he left the cubicle, "Put back my toilet-kitty!"

"He's not yours, so bugger off, Myrtle!" Ron snapped, out of patience for the temperamental ghost.

"Bugger off?! BUGGER OFF?!!" Moaning Myrtle threw herself into the nearest toilet, screaming and wailing as she did. The toilets immediately began flooding the bathroom. The sinks went next, and Ron had to flee the lavatory so he wouldn't be completely soaked.

Once he and Crookshanks were well-rid of Myrtle's bathroom, Ron began heading back towards the Seventh Floor. Figuring that Filch was probably still cleaning the dragon dung out of the Fourth Floor corridor, Ron decided against using the hidden staircase he had fallen down, instead opting for the main staircase to begin his trek back up to the security of Gryffindor Tower.

Considering he was soaking wet and had spent the last day-and-a-half literally _stuck_ in a toilet, Crookshanks was very well-behaved on their journey upstairs, never even once trying to squirm his was free of Ron's grasp.

Luck was with Ron this time around, as he didn't see hide-nor-hair of Filch or Mrs. Norris. As he passed the Fourth Four landing, though, he did hear the cantankerous caretaker complaining about Peeves loudly and in no uncertain terms from somewhere far off down the hall.

When Ron reached the Seventh Floor and made his way to the painting of the Fat Lady concealing the entrance to Gryffindor Tower, he was faced with a new set of challenges. The Fat Lady was asleep in her portrait, and even if she wasn't, Ron had no idea what the password was since he missed the prefects' meeting on the Hogwarts Express.

"Bugger me, Crookshanks, we're in for a long night," Ron sighed as he took a seat on the floor with his back against the cold, stone wall. Crookshanks mewled commiseratingly and Ron couldn't help but chuckle, "We still need to get you dried off. In fact, the both of us could do with a bit of drying-off."

Taking out his wand again, Ron cast _Tergeo_ on himself and Crookshanks to siphon off the excess water from his robes and the cat's fur. He then cast the Hot Air Charm to blow them both dry. Ron couldn't help laughing at the way the cat's ginger fur poofed up once it was blown dry.

"You almost look as though you've have a bath, Crookshanks," Ron laughed before scratching the huge cat behind the ears. Crookshanks gave Ron a mildly indignant look before curling up on the redhead's lap and purring contentedly, closing his eyes as if to sleep, "Good idea, Crookshanks; it's been a long bloody night."

Leaning his head back against the wall, Ron closed his eyes and waited for sleep to overtake him. Before it could, however, the sound of the portrait hole opening up had Ron wide-eyed and jumping to his feet, clutching the large cat tightly to his chest.

"Who's out there?"

The sound of the voice coming from the portrait hole made Ron tingle with anticipation and cringe inwardly at the same time. It was Hermione.

"I heard someone talking…"

"It was me," Ron said, quickly stepping in front of the portrait hole before she could come all the way through, "I don't know the password."

"Then you shouldn't be wandering around the castle after curfew!" she said nastily, "As a prefect you should know that – not that you _deserve_ to be a prefect, mind you."

"I am well aware of your views on me being a prefect," Ron snapped as she hit a sore spot with him, "Now, kindly go back through the hole so I can come in…or I won't give you what I have for you."

"I assure you, there's nothing _you_ have that _I_ want!" Hermione hissed as she backed out of the hole and into the common room.

Ron crawled through the portrait hole once Hermione was clear, being careful to keep Crookshanks tucked close to his chest. When he entered the common room, Hermione had her back to him as she stood at one of the work-tables, packing books and rolls of parchment into her already-bulging schoolbag.

"Hear that, boy?" Ron said to the cat, smirking as he did, "Your mummy doesn't want you anymore; I reckon you'll have to kip with me from now on."

Crookshanks meowed as if in understanding, and Hermione gasped and spun about quickly, her hair flying, wide eyes settling on the large ball of orange fur nestled comfortably in the redhead's arms.

"Crookshanks!" she cried, tears actually falling down her cheeks at the sight of her beloved cat.

She flew across the room and Ron handed the ginger cat over to Hermione; she snatched Crookshanks roughly out of the redhead's hands and began nuzzling the cat affectionately and cuddling it tightly to her chest. Ron smiled at the scene before him until Hermione noticed and began scowling at him.

"Where have you been keeping him?" she spat, looking angry enough to hex him into oblivion.

"It wasn't me," he said, knowing even as he did that she wouldn't believe him, "It was Crabbe and Goyle. I think they probably stunned him while you were at the Welcoming Feast and then stuffed him in one of Moaning Myrtle's toilets using a Sticking Charm. She sort of adopted him, so she was in a real state when I brought him out…flooded the whole place."

"Do you really expect me to believe that…that…load of dung?!" Hermione snapped hatefully, "It was _you_!"

"I know you hate me, Hermione," Ron sighed, casting his eyes down at the floor as if in defeat, "Considering the way you've been treated in the past, I don't blame you; but I'm telling you the truth when I say that I didn't do anything to Crookshanks."

"I don't hate you, Ronald Weasley," Hermione said, glaring at him. For a brief instant, when Hermione said that to him, Ron looked up at her and smiled with his eyes shining full of hope. It was short lived. "I don't hate you…I _nothing_ you. You mean _absolutely nothing_ to me, and I have no feelings towards you one way or another. In fact, until you enter a room with that hideously red hair of yours, I quite simply forget you even exist."

Her harsh words caused Ron's face to fall, and had anyone been in the room watching the exchange between the two Fifth Years, they would have said that Ron Weasley looked positively heartbroken. He paled considerably and his mouth gaped open, but no words came out.

"I don't believe you had nothing to do with Crookshanks' disappearance," she went on, seemingly undaunted by the crushed expression on Ron's freckled face, "You just better hope I never find proof that you did anything to him, because if I do I won't rest until I get back at you!"

With that, Hermione turned on her heel and stormed up the girls' staircase, leaving what was left of Ron Weasley standing alone in the ever-darkening common room; alone with the knowledge that the two people he cared for most despised him to the fullest in this Godforsaken world.

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**AUTHOR'S END NOTES: **Thanks to my beta, **CutewithAcapital-Q** for checking this over for me beforehand. I appreciate it as always (and sorry again for leaving you out in the cold last time). Thanks to **HoplessRomantic79** for letting me bounce ideas off of her. You're a big help. And thanks to anyone and everyone who takes the time to read this story and especially to those who go the extra mile and review.

See you in two weeks.


	9. The Man in the Mirror

**AUTHOR'S NOTES: **Okay, so, I've seen HALF-BLOOD PRINCE, and while I'm dying to comment on it, I don't want to give away anything for those of you who have YET to see it. So, all of you people who HAVEN'T gone out to see it, hie your butts to the theatre and see it already so I can talk about it in my notes!!! All I will say is: what about the scene where [CENSORED] grabbed [CENSORED]'s [CENSORED] and said "[CENSORED]"? Hehe. Seriously, it's a good movie as long as you can forgive the glaring deviations from the book.

**TA: **Thank'y kindly to all those who've reviewed my story so far. 166 reviews and 6480 hits to date! Yehaw! Thanks, also, to my beta, **CutewithAcapital-Q** for giving my story the once-over and helping me tighten it up.

**DISCLAIMER:** JKR owns everything but the plot and Snape's greasy little goatee.

**

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**_MIRROR, MIRROR  
_Chapter 9  
"The Man in the Mirror"**

By the time Ron dragged himself out of bed the next morning, aching all over after his tumble down two flights of stairs, the other three Fifth Year boys were already up and out of the dorm. In the light of day, Ron could clearly see the difference in this room compared to the one he was familiar with.

There was more floor space in the dorm than Ron was used to thanks largely to the absence of a fifth bed in the room. Neville's bed stood beside Ron's where Harry's bed should have been. That simple omission…one bed too few…sent Ron's mind back to last night and the monumental mission that was now laid out before him.

_"I have to turn Evil Prick Harry into Good Guy Hero Harry if I ever want to set foot on my own world ever again…"_

"Piece o' cake!" Ron said sarcastically as he dressed, gathered his books and headed downstairs to start the day.

A copy of his daily timetable had been sitting in his trunk atop his second-hand books, so at least not knowing what classes he needed to attend wouldn't add to his feeling of being completely lost.

When he reached the Great Hall, breakfast was nearly over; many students and teachers had already finished their morning meal and had gone off to start their day. He cast a glance at the Slytherin table as he passed by, but there was no sign of Harry, Malfoy, Crabbe or Goyle.

He reached the Gryffindor table and moved towards the middle, where Neville was seated across from Hermione. Ron took a deep, cleansing breath and absentmindedly ran his fingers through his fiery red hair.

"Mind if I sit here?" Ron asked, motioning to the empty spot on the bench next to Neville.

He saw Hermione and Neville stiffen at the sound of his voice. Neville shot a questioning look to Hermione and she huffed and buried herself behind her copy of _The Daily Prophet_. Neville sighed and turned to face Ron, forcing a smile on his face that did not reach his eyes.

"Ron…uh…maybe that's not the best idea," Neville said nervously. There was a distinct _hmmph _from behind Hermione's newspaper. Neville got to his feet and started to lead Ron further down the table, "We need to talk."

"If this is about the fight last night…" Ron said, warily.

"Forget about it, Ro--…"

There was a sudden gasp and the sound of a goblet of pumpkin juice crashing to the table from close by. Ron looked up just in time to see a pale-faced and wide-eyed Ginny jump to her feet, tears pouring down her cheeks as she fled from the Great Hall.

"What was _that_ all about?" Neville asked, looking in the direction Ginny had gone, "Is Ginny okay?"

Ron, meanwhile, was watching the twins, Fred and George, as they glared at him and whispered back-and-forth to each other. "I don't know, Neville…I'll have to ask her later."

Of course, Ron knew what Ginny's sudden disappearance had been all about; she had just seen her dead brother come strolling into the Great Hall. Ron was mentally kicking himself for not asking Dumbledore what to do when he inevitably ran into the other Weasleys. He would have to ask the headmaster's advice on the matter the next time he spoke with him.

The redhead looked up at the High Table and was filled with a sense of dread as he realized Dumbledore was not present this morning. Wherever the headmaster was, Ron hoped he was somehow working on a way for him to succeed in his mission.

"Sit down," Neville said, tearing Ron's attention from the Head Table. He was pointing at an empty spot near the end of the table, "Breakfast is almost over."

Neville took a seat first and then Ron nodded and did as he was told, sitting next to Neville and hurriedly piling food on his plate. He was just taking a large bite of eggs when Neville began talking again. Ron nearly choked on his eggs when he heard Neville's chosen subject of conversation.

"Did you do something to Crookshanks?"

"Bloody Hell, Neville!" Ron coughed, half-chewed eggs spraying out of his mouth, "What is this? You don't want me sitting near you and Hermione, and now you're accusing me of --…"

"I'm not accusing you of anything, Ron," Neville replied, putting his hands up defensively, "It's just…I heard Hermione's version of the story, and now I want to hear yours."

"What does it matter what my version is?" Ron sighed, casting a glance up the table towards Hermione. She was watching the two boys with obvious interest but when she saw Ron looking, she immediately dove back behind her paper, "Believe what you want. She does."

"I want to believe that my best friend isn't capable of doing something so mean and cruel to my other best friend's cat just to be spiteful," Neville said, looking very serious, "But the evidence is pointing in that direction."

"What evidence?" Ron scoffed.

"You skulking around outside the portrait hole in the middle of the night with Crookshanks in your possession," Neville said, looking down at the table.

"_Skulking?!_" Ron shouted, drawing curious looks from nearby students, "I didn't know the bloody password, and I found the damn cat stuffed in a toilet during my walk last night!"

"So, you didn't have Crookshanks hidden somewhere and weren't just trying to bring him back before you got into trouble?" Neville asked nervously. He looked like he was afraid Ron was about to blow up at him…again.

"When would I have had time to _hide_ him, Neville?" Ron asked heatedly, "Did I hide him while I was unconscious in the bloody Hospital Wing?!"

"No…I suppose not," Neville replied, blushing.

"Cheers, by the way, for believing in me," Ron said bitterly, standing up and snatching his schoolbag off the floor. He started to make for the exit of the Great Hall, but turned back and looked at Neville, his eyes a stormy sea of troubled emotions. "I don't blame you for believing Hermione…you fancy her, after all; it just would've been nice if you could have given me the benefit of the doubt."

"Ron…"

"Save it, Neville. I'll see you in Flitwick's class."

Without another word, Ron slung his schoolbag over his shoulder and limped out of the Great Hall. He walked as quickly as his bruised and battered leg would allow, and didn't stop until he was sitting at his usual spot inside the Charms classroom, thankful for some time alone to clear his thoughts. It didn't last, however, and a few minutes later the rest of the class filed in, taking their seats.

He wasn't quite sure he was ready to be thrown into the role of this world's Ron Weasley just yet. His sum total of interactions between himself and Neville and Hermione had showed him that. Things were too different. He and Neville were friends where he came from, but not best mates; trying to act as though they were was proving to be difficult.

"Alright there, Ron?" Neville asked shyly as he slid into the seat next to Ron.

"'M fine, Neville," Ron sighed, rolling his eyes.

"About that business at breakfast…"

"Leave it alone, Neville," Ron said, tiredly, "I'm not in the mood."

"I just…you were wrong, Ron," Neville said, keeping his voice low, "I _did_ fancy Hermione once…but I've moved on. There's someone else I like. So, if someone _else_ took an interest in Hermione..."

Ron shot him a quizzical look but before Neville could say anything more, Professor Flitwick had come into the room and climbed atop the pile of books he used to elevate him to a height necessary to see over his desk. Charms class had begun.

Charms class was a double period this year, as was Transfiguration. And just as Professor Flitwick had done at the beginning of Charms, Professor McGonagall spent the first fifteen minutes of Transfiguration class stressing the importance of the OWL exams they would take at the end of you school-year.

Ron had so much on his mind that it was difficult to concentrate on what Professor McGonagall was teaching, and at more than one point during the double lesson, he found his eyes drifting out the classroom window as his mind mulled over the difficulties that faced him this year. It should have come as no surprise, then, that Professor McGonagall insisted that he see her after class.

He received a short lecture on the importance of OWLs and the importance of paying attention to the lessons leading up to the OWLs. Ron nodded and looked sufficiently sorry for having lost his concentration during class, and not only did he make it out of there without any significant punishment…besides the lecture…he was only ten minutes late to lunch.

When he entered the Great Hall, Ron didn't bother approaching Neville and Hermione in search of a seat, not wanting a repeat of the morning's awkwardness. Unfortunately for him, Neville waved him over expectantly.

"Oi, Ron! I've saved you a seat!"

There was, indeed, a spot open on the bench next to Neville, but as he looked over that way, Ron noticed Hermione looking very disgruntled at Neville. Obviously, she didn't want him sitting there.

Neville, however, kept calling to him, and people were starting to stare, wondering what the commotion was all about. Wanting to shut Neville up and get everyone else to go back to minding their own business, Ron hurried over and dropped down next to Neville.

Ron immediately began helping himself to the food, not bothering to look up at either Neville or Hermione, knowing full well that if he did, he would no doubt see Hermione hiding her face behind a textbook or other large tome, ignoring him.

Neville, however, seemed completely oblivious to Ron and Hermione's discomfort, and began talking cheerfully. Ron didn't mind that the round-faced boy was engaging Hermione instead of him in conversation, but he did mind the subject matter.

"I heard Viktor was signed by the Vrasta Vultures," Neville said, referring to the Bulgarian Quidditch team that competed in the European Quidditch League; one of the most successful European teams, having won the tri-annually contested European Cup a total of seven times.

"That's right," Hermione replied, looking over the top of her Transfiguration book at Neville, pointedly ignoring Ron, "Though he still hopes to play for the national team when the World Cup is played again in three years."

"We saw him play in last year's Cup final," Neville said, smiling at the memory, "He was amazing…wasn't he, Ron?"

"Mm…" Ron grunted noncommittally, refusing to look up from his plate as he shoveled Shepherd's pie into his mouth.

"You couldn't stop gushing about him at the Cup match, Ron," Neville said with a sly smirk, "Why the sudden lack of interest?"

Ron cast a surly glance at Neville. Having seen the memories of _this_ world's Ron Weasley, he knew that Neville _had_ to know why there was a lack of interest in Viktor Krum on Ron's part. He didn't know what Neville was playing at.

"I'm just not a fan anymore," Ron said honestly, "Can we change the subject?"

"It's because he's _my_ boyfriend!" Hermione hissed, glaring hatefully at Ron, "Guilt by association…isn't that right? You hate _me_, so now you hate _Viktor_!"

"I do _NOT_ hate you!" Ron snapped, slamming his fist down hard on the table, causing nearby plates, bowls, platters, and cups to jump momentarily and drawing startled looks from some nearby Gryffindors, "What does it matter how I feel? You _nothing me_, remember? As for Viktor Krum…what I hate about him and _why_ is _my_ business; but I'll tell you this: you can do _much_ better than _him_!"

For the second time that day, Ron got up and stormed out of the Great Hall without finishing his meal. If this kept up, he'd be nothing more than red hair and a bag of bones by the end of the week.

Ron pushed through the doors leading out onto the school grounds and headed in the direction of Hagrid's cabin, where their Care of Magical Creatures class was held. He didn't get very far before someone grabbed his arm from behind.

Turning quickly, Ron had his wand out and pointed in his assailant's face in the space of no more than a second. To say Neville Longbottom looked surprised to find his best friend's wand-tip less than an inch from his nose was the understatement of the year.

"Uh…Ron…?"

"What do you want, Neville?" Ron growled, lowering his wand and turning back to continue his trek down the lawn toward Hagrid's.

"What happened in there, mate?" Neville asked, referring to his outburst at the lunch table.

"I hate Krum," Ron said simply, "He's an idiot, and I don't need to hear about him while I'm trying to eat."

"He's not _that_ bad," Neville replied, having no clue as to what was truly going on, "Hermione introduced me to him before he returned to Durmstrang. Viktor even gave me his autograph; I showed you, remember?"

"Neville, I didn't want to hear about Viktor-sodding-Krum at lunch…what makes you think I want to hear about him on my way to class?"

"I just think there's something…some _reason_ you don't like Viktor…that you're not willing to admit…not even to yourself," Neville said, sounding as if he was trying to draw Ron out, to get him to admit his true feelings, "You know, it's okay for you to like her…"

Ron got a crick in his neck from turning his head to face Neville so quickly, "What are you on about?"

"Well, it just seemed like…last year, anyway…that you might have had…feelings…for Hermione," Neville said with a knowing smirk; a smirk that Ron was tempted to hex off Neville's face, "If you're trying to hide those feelings because you think I like her…like I said before, I like someone else now."

"Right," Ron said rolling his eyes, "And I'm sure her _boyfriend_ won't mind a bit, yeah?"

"So you _do_ like her!" Neville exclaimed, smiling brightly.

"I never _said_ that!" Ron yelled, looking horrified at having inadvertently revealed information of such a delicate nature, "Bloody _Hell_, Neville!"

"You're secret's safe with me, mate!" Neville said, continuing to smile and making Ron want to hex his face clear of all expression, "And listen…for what it's worth…I'm sorry for not believing you about Crookshanks earlier."

Neville turned and ran back the way he came and Ron sighed heavily. He had a really bad feeling about Neville knowing the truth about his feelings for Hermione, but there was nothing to be done about it now.

"Too bad Lockhart's not here…he could Obliviate Neville right quick," Ron muttered as he continued on towards Hagrid's hut. He was much too early for class, and since Hagrid was nowhere to be found – he really needed to ask Dumbledore about the missing half-giant – he decided to sit under the shade of a tree, close his eyes, and just lose himself in his thoughts.

This was going to be the first Care of Magical Creatures class of the term, and that had Ron feeling anxious; not because of the wonky creatures…many of them deserving the term "monsters"…that he'd be facing in this class…especially once Hagrid returned from _wherever_ he was…but because of the students who would have to face.

This would be his first class with the Slytherins; his first class with Harry. He had yet to even _see_ Harry since Dumbledore's _Borrowing_ spell brought him here, but now he'd be coming face-to-face with him…and that thought frightened him a little.

From everything Ron had seen, and from what Dumbledore had said, Harry was one of You-Know-Who's minions on this world, possibly even a Death Eater. If that was the case, how was Ron going to convince him to abandon You-Know-Who and actually fight against him? It really did seem hopeless.

There was a noise nearby, and when Ron looked, he saw Professor Grubbly-Plank conjure up a long trestle table about ten yards from the front door of Hagrid's cabin and begin laying out what looked like bundles of twigs atop it.

Class would be starting soon, and as if to prove the point to Ron, he could hear the sound of the Gryffindor and Slytherin students making their way down the lawn. He looked towards the crowd of Slytherins as they swaggered down the lawn and his anxiety grew.

There was no sign of Harry in the crowd, but he would be here, and Ron would have to face him. He didn't know how he'd be able to handle coming face-to-face with a Harry who not only hated him, but was one of You-Know-Who's evil minions.

"Meeeeoowwww!"

Ron looked up and saw a group of Slytherins, led by Draco Malfoy, making cat noises as the Gryffindors approached. Hermione was at the front of the group, and Ron realized they were mocking her with the, literal, cat-calls. She looked extremely flustered and that just made the Slytherins laugh at her all the more.

"Hey, Granger," Malfoy called, a vicious smirk on his pointed face, "Word around the castle is that orange beast of yours ran away…not even your ugly cat wants to be around a filthy little Mudblood like you!"

"Then word around the castle is wrong," Hermione said snidely, "Crookshanks is in my dorm where he belongs; better check your facts next time, Malfoy."

Ron watched as Malfoy cast an angry, inquiring glance at Crabbe and Goyle who, in turn, gave Malfoy a pair of blankly confused looks; the two Slytherin behemoths shrugged as though they really had no idea what was going on…in all likelihood, they didn't.

"Shove off, Malfoy!" Ron called out of habit, stepping up next to Hermione, ready to jump to her defense just as he would do on his own world, "Stay away from Hermione and tell your goons to stay away from her cat before someone stuffs _them_ in a toilet!"

Ron couldn't help but notice the flash of recognition in Malfoy's cold grey eyes. Nor could he miss the concerned looks on Crabbe and Goyle's faces as they seemed to realize – rather quickly for those two dunderheads – that they'd been found out. They looked immediately to Malfoy as if hoping for some sort of instructions from their pale-haired ringleader.

"You might want to watch hanging around in girls' bathrooms, Weasley," Malfoy said, smiling malevolently, "As a prefect, I think I'll have to give you a detention!"

Ron smirked and spoke menacingly to Malfoy, "Who said anything about the girls' bathroom, Malfoy? You might want to give yourself a detention since you _obviously_ know more than you're letting on."

The pale-blonde Slytherin drew back, eyes wide as he realized he'd said too much. His look of shock shifted quickly, though, and he was soon glaring hatefully at Ron as he moved away from the two Gryffindors back towards Crabbe and Goyle.

Before another word could be said, Professor Grubbly-Plank called the class to order and they soon began their study of bowtruckles – stick-like tree spirits. During the lesson, Ron hazarded a glance at Hermione; she seemed deep in thought and a war of emotions was playing out on her face. When she noticed Ron watching her, she glowered at him then turned her attention back to the professor.

Ron sighed and shook his head before trying to concentrate on the lesson. As he did, though, the hair on the back of his neck stood up and he got the feeling that he was being watched. He looked over his shoulder and a cold chill ran through his body; Harry Potter had finally shown up for class and was glaring at Ron from his place amongst the Slytherin portion of the students, his vibrant, green eyes full of hatred and loathing.

Ron swallowed involuntarily and turned his attention back to Professor Grubbly-Plank, but he couldn't concentrate on the lesson, so he gave it up as a bad job. He couldn't help feeling crushed by the weight of his mission.

_"How'm I supposed to make Harry my friend when the bloke looks like he wants to kill me?"_

Professor Grubbly-Plank's lesson on bowtruckles went by with Ron, unsurprisingly, _not_ paying attention. Too many things were running through his head for him to concentrate on the twig-creatures they were studying.

Ron's body was practically moving on autopilot by the time the class ended and the Gryffindors made their way up towards the greenhouses for Herbology. So lost in thought was Ron that he didn't even realize he was being hemmed in by Slytherins until he ran into Crabbe's beefy frame.

"Better watch where you're going, Weasel," Malfoy said from behind him, "You never know when something _unfortunate_ might happen to you."

Ron turned around and glared at Malfoy's smirking pointy face, "Better watch _yourself_, Ferret-boy…someone might bounce you right off the Astronomy Tower."

Malfoy looked confused at Ron's comments, and as Ron forcibly shoved his way past Crabbe and continued on up to the greenhouses, he realized that comments made no sense to Malfoy. After all, 'Professor Moody' never turned him into the _Amazing Bouncing Ferret_ like he had on Ron's world.

_"Shame, really,"_ Ron thought, smirking at the memory, _"I should learn how to do that and do it to him myself…teach the ruddy git a lesson."_

When Ron reached the greenhouses, he saw Neville talking with Ginny as the rest of her Fourth Year Herbology class – a mix of Gryffindors and Ravenclaws – made their way towards the castle. Ginny and Neville both had blushes on their cheeks as they conversed nervously, and neither noticed him approaching. Ron watched them with an arch look on his face, wondering what they could be talking about that had them both embarrassed and nervous.

"I'm glad you're feeling better."

Ron was ripped from his thoughts of Neville and Ginny by a girl with long dirty-blonde hair and bulging eyes that made her look constantly surprised. She had been standing off to the side, as if waiting for Ginny and Neville to finish talking, but when she saw him she must have decided to come and talk to him.

The girl looked familiar, and Ron was pretty sure he'd seen her somewhere before…somewhere other than Hogwarts…but he couldn't quite place her. She, however, must have completely recognized him as she beamed up at him excitedly.

"I heard Snargalak flu is quite fatal," she said, gazing at him admiringly, "You're lucky to have recovered so quickly."

"Yeah, that's me," he replied sarcastically, "Lucky all over. Err…?"

"You don't remember me?" she asked, smiling still, "Luna Lovegood…we live near each other…"

"Okay…" Ron tried to remember all the wizarding families that lived around Ottery St. Catchpole. The Weasleys, of course, the Diggorys, the Fawcetts, and… "Your dad's Xenophilius Lovegood…the bloke that puts out _The Quibbler_?"

_The Quibbler_ was a disreputable magazine full of amazing, impossible-to-believe stories about crackpot conspiracy theories, bizarre occurrences, and imaginary magical creatures. Xenophilius was a bit of a loon, and so was his daughter, judging by the orange radish-looking things hanging from her ears.

"That's my father," Luna agreed, nodding. She continued to smile up at him admiringly and Ron felt very uncomfortable, "I'm really glad you're better…I just wanted to tell you that. I've got to go now that Ginny's done talking to her boyfriend…we're going to be late for Transfiguration. Good-bye Ronald!"

With a wave, Luna hurried off towards the castle, catching up to Ginny who, once again, appeared to be in a great hurry to get away from him. Ron sighed as he watched Ginny run off, wondering if she'd ever be able to be near him without running away…if not, people were going to start getting very suspicious very soon.

And what was that business Luna was talking about? Ginny didn't have a boyfriend…she was talking to Nevi–…

"Sweet Merlin, you're kidding me!"

"Alright there, Ron?" Neville asked nervously, "We're going to be late unless we get inside…"

Ron moved over quickly and shoved Neville up against the glass-paneled wall of the greenhouse, causing the other boy to squeak in surprise.

"When were you going to tell me about you and Ginny?" Ron asked angrily, "When were you going to tell me you're dating my sis--…"

Ron broke away suddenly, letting go of Neville and backing off, looking embarrassed and apologetic. He'd forgotten that this Ginny _wasn't_ his sister…not really. He had no right to get angry…no business being overprotective of her.

"Sorry, Neville…err…I'd better get inside before Sprout gives me a detention…"

Ron hurried inside the greenhouse, leaving behind a frightened and dumbstruck Neville Longbottom to try and figure out what had just happened. When Neville entered the greenhouse, he avoided Ron which suited Ron fine, since he didn't know what he would say to the other boy when the time came for them to discuss what had just happened.

Herbology went by without Ron really paying attention. He had partnered up with one of the Hufflepuffs, leaving Neville to partner with Hermione. He tried to ignore the fact that they kept whispering back and forth and shooting him looks over their shoulders, but it was difficult. It was just more weight piled onto a pair of freckled shoulders that felt as if he were holding up the sky; a pale, ginger-haired Atlas struggling with his burden…and this was just the first day.

Ron sat alone near the end of the Gryffindor table at dinner, wolfing down his food as fast as he could. Neville and Hermione kept shooting him looks and talking quietly to each other. Not waiting for pudding, Ron finished his steak-and-kidney pie and was just about to rush out of the Great Hall when Angelina Johnson started moving up and down the length of the table, calling out to her fellow Gryffindors.

"Keeper try-outs on Friday, people! We need someone to replace Oliver Wood, so if you have any Quidditch talent whatsoever, be out on the pitch Friday at five o'clock!" She reached Ron's spot at the table and smiled, "You're a Weasley…you _must_ be good at Quidditch, yeah…with brothers like Charlie and Fred and George? You need to come and try out!"

"Err…I don't know…" Ron shrugged, desperate to exit the hall. He honestly _did_ want to try out for the team…ever since he received his new broom he'd been thinking about it; but here, with the mission he had to accomplish…playing Quidditch didn't seem to matter.

"You're coming," Angelina said, not taking _no_…or _I don't know_…for an answer, "You'll be there even if I have to get the twins to drag you there by your jumper!"

Before Ron could reply, Angelina made her way back down the table, reminding everyone of the Keeper try-outs. Sighing in frustration, Ron made his way out of the Great Hall. He went up to his dorm where he was pretty sure he could be alone with his thoughts, at least for a little while.

Ron climbed the boys' staircase to the Fifth Year dorm, dropping heavily onto his bed with a weary sigh. He shuffled through his schoolbag and fished out his timetable; tomorrow would be another Care of Magical Creatures class, which meant another opportunity to try and talk to Harry…not that today's attempt went well.

With the incident between Hermione and Malfoy and then Harry looking like he'd rather kill Ron than talk to him, Ron hadn't bothered to even _try_ to approach Harry. Even when he did, eventually, confront Harry, Ron had no idea what he would say to him; how was he supposed to convince this Harry to quit You-Know-Who's camp and sign up with Dumbledore? _Blood-traitor's loyalty_ or something like that, the prophecy had said. But what did it mean?

"Bloody cryptic Trelawney," Ron grumbled, tossing his timetable aside after several minutes of pondering the meaning of the prophecy, "Merlin forbid she should be straightforward about something!"

"You working on her dream journal?"

The sound of the voice behind him had startled Ron and he jumped visibly. He turned in time to see Neville coming through the door into the dormitory. Ron sighed; he had hoped to avoid Neville, and the inevitable conversation about what happened before Herbology, for at least the rest of the night.

"I know you weren't there for our first Divination class, Ron, so if you want to use my dream journal as a guide…" Neville reached into his trunk and tossed a book to Ron before dropping down on his own bed, "Nice catch," Neville said with a smile as Ron caught the book nimbly, "You really should try out for Keeper."

Humoring Neville, Ron flipped open the book and looked briefly at a detailed account of a dream involving Neville's mimbulus mimbletonia. Ron smirked before snapping the book shut and tossing it back to Neville.

"Cheers, Nev," Ron said half-heartedly, "But I'll just make something up. Maybe I 'dreamt' about buying new shoes; she can't turn that into something tragic."

Neville laughed and the two boys fell into a semi-comfortable silence. Neville, however, broke it all too soon.

"Can I ask you something, Ron?"

"I s'pose…" Ron shrugged, hoping it would be a question he could answer.

"What was that, out by the greenhouses?" Neville asked quietly, looking down at his feet, "I mean, I know she's your sister and you're protective of her…but I'm your best friend…do you really think I'm going to hurt her or something?"

"I don't know, Neville," Ron said tiredly, "This whole situation is just not something I ever considered."

"I don't want this to hurt our friendship," Neville said, looking up briefly, "But I really do like Ginny; we had such a good time together at the Yule Ball..."

_"The bloody Yule Ball,"_ Ron thought, grimacing, _"How I wish that night never happened."_

"Ron…? Say something…" Neville looked worried.

"It's fine, Neville," Ron sighed. This wasn't his world; he didn't have a right to get bent out of shape over what this world's Ginny did, "Just treat her right and you won't need to worry about Ginny's brothers." He wasn't talking about him. Ginny had five other brothers on this world that could protect her from boyfriends and the like.

Ron wanted to get out of the dorm as fast as possible and extricate himself from the uncomfortable conversation. As he noticed his broom propped against the wall next to his bed, Ron found a perfect excuse for leaving. He stood up and grabbed his broom, making his way towards the door.

"Ron? Where are you going?" Neville asked, looking confused.

"If I'm going to try out for Keeper," Ron said over his shoulder, "I need to get in some practice."

Before Neville could reply, Ron left the room and rushed down the boys' staircase. He stopped halfway down the steps and looked at the broom in his hand; the wood felt cold in his hand and he realized why.

_"This is a dead bloke's broom,"_ he thought, a shiver running through him, _"He never even got a chance to ride it."_

The Cleansweep Eleven had been his reward for being made a prefect, but on this world Ron Weasley died before ever setting eyes on the brand-new broom. His mother came home from buying it only to find her son dead on the floor of the Burrow's lounge.

Another cold shiver ran through Ron's body and he wanted nothing more than to throw the broom aside and never touch it again. But he couldn't do that; he needed to keep up the deception that he was this world's Ron Weasley.

He continued down into the common room and was about to head out through the portrait hole when twin flashes of red drew his attention to the corner. He wanted to avoid the twins just as much as he wanted to avoid Neville…but as his conversation with the round-faced boy up in the dorm had proved, an encounter with them was inevitable.

People would begin noticing the bizarre way the Weasleys were treating him unless they came to some sort of understanding. Surely with Ginny dating Neville, it was only a matter of time before he noticed Ginny avoiding her "brother". His mission could be in jeopardy if people started asking questions.

Taking a deep breath and propping his broom next to the portrait hole, Ron made his way over to the corner where the twins were shuffling through some pieces of parchment, talking quietly amongst themselves in animated whispers. He moved slowly and deliberately, not wanting to draw any undue attention to himself.

He cleared his throat when he reached the twins, and Fred and George looked up, their expressions stony.

"Hey…" Ron began, really not knowing what to say in this situation.

"Well, look who it is, George," Fred said, turning his attention back to the parchment on the table.

"If it isn't 'ickle Ronnie'," George replied, snorting derisively.

"Go away!" the twins said together.

"I need to talk to you," Ron said, hoping they'd give him a break. But, if there was one thing Ron should have learned from having his teddy bear turned into a spider right before his eyes at the age of three, it was that Fred and George did _not_ cut their younger brother a break, no matter what universe they were in.

"We don't want to talk," Fred replied brusquely, not bothering to look up, "So, bugger off."

"How's Ginny?" Ron asked, ignoring Fred's rudeness. It was a rather dumb question, he knew, but it was a lot easier to ask than to ask _'Can you please get Ginny to stop running off crying every time I come in a room?'_

"How do you _think_ she is, 'little brother'?!" Fred asked in an angry whisper, looking up at Ron once more.

"She's a right bit traumatized," George answered, his voice sounding a bit shaky, "So'm I, come to that."

Ron had never seen one of the twins look like this…lost, frightened, small…shattered. He felt horrible for the twins and the rest of Weasleys; there was no way that Ron could know what they were feeling or how he would feel in the same situation.

"Ginny found y--…_him_," Fred said, "She was the first one through the Floo and there he was…sprawled out on the lounge floor, staring up at the ceiling with lifeless eyes."

"Mum went spare," George added in his small-sounding voice, "By the time we Apparated in, she was cradling him…screaming for someone to come help her baby…"

Ron felt as though a mountain troll had kicked him in the stomach. He didn't want to hear about this; seeing the memory…feeling as though _he_ had died…had been bad enough, but knowing how it had hurt the family…how it was _still_ hurting the family…was too much.

"When I got there, Ginny was throwing up on the floor…I nearly did, too," Fred admitted looking away.

"I…I'm…" Ron didn't think he could bring himself to say 'I'm sorry'. It didn't seem like it was enough.

"I miss him," George said softly, looking out the window, "He was my baby brother."

Fred reached over and patted George on the shoulder. The twins always had each other…even over here…and that thought, alone, was comforting. Without another word, Ron moved away from the twins' table; he'd intruded enough…caused them enough pain.

He really needed to clear his head now, so the prospect of taking a ride on his broom was more appealing now than ever before. He grabbed his broom and crawled quickly through the portrait hole and left Gryffindor Tower behind him.

He made his way down the corridor towards the stairs and five minutes later he was standing outside the castle, looking off towards the school's Quidditch pitch. Ron mounted his broom – pretending it was his own Cleansweep Eleven he'd left behind on his own world helped cut down on the creepy feeling – and kicked off from the ground, flying in the direction of the three golden goal hoops glinting in the fading sunlight of an early September evening.

Flying cleared his head; it always had, even when all he had to fly was a broken-down Shooting Star that had been passed down from brother-to-brother-to-brother until it became his. It was the same broken-down old broom that he had passed on to Ginny when the Cleansweep had been purchased.

Ron sighed as the cool air whipped past his face, rustling his robes and mussing his hair. He swooped around the triple goal hoops, wishing for a moment that he had a Quaffle to toss around while he was up there, if only to lose himself further in the Quidditch experience before returning to the ground below and the troubles that lay before him.

He gave himself over to the exhilaration of flying; he did several laps around the pitch and by the time he landed in front of the castle and dismounted his broom, he was looking quite rosy-cheeked and windswept, and there was a smile on his face.

The smile was short-lived, however, as he ran into one of the last people he ever cared to encounter once he was back inside the castle.

"Ah, Weasley…back among the living, I see," Professor Snape said with his trademark sneer, "Dire illness will not excuse you from the essay I assigned yesterday: one foot of parchment on the use of moonstones. I expect you to hand yours in alongside everyone else; and writing in ridiculously large letters will result in a failing grade and earn you a detention…am I understood?"

"Err…yeah," Ron knew he shouldn't stare, but he couldn't help it. The sallowness of Snape's pale face he was used to seeing was broken up by the presence of a greasy black goatee ending in an evil-looking point. Ron could not take his eyes off it.

"I do believe the words you meant to say were 'Yes, Professor'," Snape hissed, narrowing his black eyes at Ron.

"Err…right…yeah…" Ron said, not paying attention to a thing the Potions Master said.

"Ten points from Gryffindor for disrespect!" Snape growled, "And if you enjoy staring at me so much, Weasley, perhaps a detention will help you get your fill of gawking at me!"

"What…? No! Err…no, _Professor_," Ron said, feeling bile rise in his throat as he forced himself to be respectful.

"Move along, Weasley!" Snape snapped, glaring at the redheaded Gryffindor.

Ron quickly did as he was told, tearing his eyes away from Snape and his greasy goatee, and heading for the stairs leading up to the Seventh Floor.

"Oh, and Weasley…?"

"Yes…Professor?"

"I'll see you in my office for detention, tomorrow night at seven o'clock; lateness will result in a loss of House points and further detentions."

Ron set his jaw and gritted his teeth. He was very close to yelling at Snape, berating him for being such an unfair git. He kept his mouth shut, though, knowing he'd just get in worse trouble. He turned away from the Potions professor and made his way upstairs.

"Slimy, stinking bat!" Ron growled once he had reached the Seventh Floor and his anger had reached the boiling point. He didn't care who heard him or if they knew who he was talking about, "Points off for disrespect and detention for staring…completely effing ridiculous!"

During a pause in his rant about Snape, he heard a shuffling noise behind him. He pulled his wand and turned just as a voice called out from behind him.

"You really shouldn't talk to yourself…people will think you're mad."

* * *

**AUTHOR'S END NOTES: **Well, there you have it...Ron's first day of class. Not an action-packed "popcorn movie" chapter, but I hope t was enjoyable all the same. Check back in two weeks for the next installment.


	10. Strangers in My Reflection

**AUTHOR'S NOTES:** So, I almost didn't post tonight. To be honest, I've been so busy with other things (including working on Ch. 11), that I couldn't remember if this was a week for me to post a story or not. Uncle Blackhawk's getting old, kiddies, and I guess the memory is the first to go. These weeks are really just sort of blending together...I need a vacation. A few weeks on a tropical island someplace where the women wear grass skirts, the drinks come in coconuts, and there's a good chance of being caught in either a volcanic eruption or a tidal wave...or both. Anybody remember the Gilligan's Island TV movie where they built a resort on the island and the Globe Trotters were gues-stars? I could use a couple'a weeks there...of course...Ginger and Mary-Anne are awfully old at this point...*sigh* Anyway...

A lot of the reviews from last chapter took guesses as to whom was speaking to Ron in that sort of cliffhangery ending I gave you. Not too many actually came close to the right answer. Also, a lot of people keep asking me what's going on back in Ron's home dimension...well...I'm not going to tell you! Sit back and wait for it. Trust me, Ron's just as anxious to find out how his friends and family are dealing with his absence, but as Dumbledore told him during their bathroom conversation, "All things will be revealed in time."

This is liable to be a long story, so I won't be rushing along to explain things quickly. I want to take my time and let the story unfold as it will. Hopefully you'll all stick around for it.

**THANKS:** **CutewithAcapital-Q** is, once again, my very helpful beta on this story, so a very humble **thank-you-very-much** to her. And, as always, thanks to everyone who has reviewed this story. I appreciate you all!

**DISCLAIMER:** This stuff belongs to JKR...but if you wanna pay me for it, I won't tell her.

* * *

**_MIRROR, MIRROR_  
Chapter 10  
"Strangers in My Reflection"**

Ron drew his wand and dropped his broom turning on his heel and finding himself aiming his wand at the dreamily smiling face of Luna Lovegood.

"Bloody Hell!" Ron growled, putting his wand back in his pocket, "Don't sneak up on a bloke like that…I could've hexed you!"

Luna didn't seem the least bit fazed that Ron's wand had been pointing threateningly at her face. She also didn't seem to acknowledge his rebuking of her, for she continued to smile at him in a far-away sort of manner.

"People will think you're mad if you talk to yourself," she said again, "My father talks to himself all the time, and everyone seems to think _he's_ mad."

"Thanks for the tip," Ron sighed. He, too, thought Xenophilius Lovegood was mad, but he didn't think Luna needed to know that. She made him a tad bit uncomfortable, and he began running his fingers through his hair nervously.

"Where's the bat?" Luna asked, changing the subject suddenly and looking up, as if in search of said flying mammal.

"What bat?" Ron asked, confused. He was also looking up, trying to find what she was looking for.

"You were yelling about a bat," she explained, unknowingly referring to his rant about Snape, "I hope it's a Wiffle Bat."

"What's a 'Wiffle Bat'?" he asked, arching his eyebrow at her, more confused than ever.

"It's a large yellow bat that _wiffles_ as it flies through the air," Luna explained as if it all made perfect sense, "I've never seen one before; they're native to North America, so they're very rare here in Britain."

"What the Hell is _'wiffling'_?!" Ron asked, starting to get frustrated and angry with Luna's enigmatic ways.

"I don't know," she replied, oblivious to Ron's disgruntlement, "My father says that when a Wiffle Bat wiffles at you, you'll know."

"Sounds bad," he said a bit acerbically, "Of course, not knowing what _wiffling _is, it could go either way, I reckon."

"So what kind of bat _is_ it?" Luna asked, beaming up at him, "Were you going to fly around and try to catch it…is that why you have your broom with you?"

"What?" Ron suddenly remembered the broom he had dropped to the ground, "Oh…no. I was out flying around the Quidditch pitch…I might be trying out for Keeper on Friday."

"And did you accidentally let a bat in the castle when you came in from outside?" she asked, still seemingly hopeful to see a strange new creature flying around.

"No…there _is_ no bat!" Ron said a bit harshly, though his tone seemed lost on the Ravenclaw. She did seem disappointed upon hearing there was no flying rodent around for her to observe, "I was actually referring to Snape; I ran into him downstairs and the ruddy bastard took away points and gave me detention…again."

"You were calling Professor Snape a bat?" Luna asked, eyes wider than usual.

"Well, yeah…" Ron really didn't feel comfortable under Luna's goggle-eyed scrutiny and he was trying to come up with a way to extricate himself from this encounter.

"That's funny, Ronald!" Luna exclaimed, erupting into high-pitched, hysterical laughter, "You're even funnier than your brothers!"

"Err…thanks," he said, blushing slightly, unnerved by her laughter.

Luna continued to laugh uproariously at Ron's comment, causing him to keep looking around nervously for any unwelcome attention the blonde girl's laughter might have drawn his way. It seemed to take forever, but once her laughter subsided, she went back to gazing up at him dreamily.

"Err…listen, Luna," Ron said once her laughter died down, "It's getting late…curfew will go into effect soon. We really should be getting back to our common rooms…"

"Do you think you'll make the team, then?" Luna asked, suddenly changing the subject. Once again, she either didn't hear what he said or she chose to ignore him.

"I dunno," Ron said, shrugging. He looked down at his broom where it lay, cast aside, on the floor, "If I'm lucky, maybe."

"If you do, I'll cheer for you," she said, beaming up at him, "Unless you play again Ravenclaw, of course."

"Right…well…thanks," he said, blushing a bit.

"Don't mention it," Luna said, her voice airy, "It will be almost like having a friend to root for."

Ron could see that this girl was the type who probably didn't have many friends. From what he remembered hearing about the Lovegoods, they were an unusual family that most wizards and witches steered clear of. It had to be a very lonely existence for the girl…Ron could see himself relating to her, suddenly.

"Luna…can I ask you something?"

"You just did," she replied, looking off down the hall, back the way she'd come.

"Right…erm…if our families are neighbors, and you're in Ginny's year…how come I've never seen you around school before?" It didn't seem to make much sense to him that she would show up all of a sudden as if she had just been created, fresh out of nothing, prior to this school-year.

"I was home-schooled until last year," she explained, continuing to look off into the distance, "My mother died when I was nine, and my father couldn't bear to be alone…so he kept me at home and taught me himself. I think the only reason he let me start school last year was that he wanted me to make friends so I wouldn't be lonely, too. He was very excited for me when I told him I'd made a friend."

"You mean Ginny," Ron nodded.

"Of course…she's very nice," Luna said, turning to face him again, smiling wistfully, "She defends me when other people in our class pick on me. She even tried to get me a date to the Yule Ball last year…"

Ron recalled a bit of a memory he'd seen from this world's Ron, "She tried to get…err…_me_ to ask you, didn't she?"

"Yes, but it's alright that you didn't ask me," she said, "Though it would have been nice."

"Well…err…I had my head up my arse a bit last year," he laughed uncomfortably, recalling the memories of his counterpart's Fourth Year, "Don't take it personal."

"Oh, I don't," she replied, "Ginny told me that you were a bit of a prat."

"Err…yeah," he nodded. He wondered what else Ginny might have told her, "Err…Luna…have you noticed Ginny getting…emotional…lately?"

"Oh yes," Luna said, nodding, "She gets quite upset whenever you're around. She says you remind her of someone who died recently and it's painful to be near you. Was it a family member who died?"

"Err…yeah," Ron said nervously, not wanting to let too much slip out, "Though I wasn't close to him. Not really, anyway."

"That explains why you're not upset; I had wondered," she said.

"Err…so…I reckon I should try to stay away from Ginny then, yeah?" Ron asked, unsure why exactly he was asking this strange girl for advice…but with her odd ways and far-away gaze, she seemed far removed from everyone who might question the change in him, "Give her space so she can get over…err…it?"

"You're her brother," Luna said matter-of-factly, as if _that_ were the ultimate answer, "You can't stay away from her. If I'd had a brother, I'd have wanted him to comfort me when Mum died…not avoid me."

"Reckon you're right," Ron sighed, "Err…sorry…about your Mum, I mean."

"It's alright…I still feel sad about it sometimes," she said softly, "But it isn't as though I'll never see her again."

"Wait…what?"

"I'll see her again…someday," Luna said, as though it made perfect sense, "She's waiting for me. Perhaps I should tell Ginny that…perhaps knowing that her relative is waiting for her and she'll see him again someday will cheer her up."

"Err…maybe," Ron shrugged, not sure he believed what Luna was saying.

"Good night, Ronald."

And just like that, Luna Lovegood turned and headed off down the corridor, leaving a very perplexed Ron Weasley standing in the hall watching her go. After several minutes, long after she'd disappeared around a corner, Ron picked up his broom and made his way back towards the portrait of the Fat Lady and the common room beyond.

* * *

The next day, Ron awoke with a monumental sense of dread. He would be seeing Harry again during that afternoon's Care of Magical Creatures class. It was another chance to try and make contact, though Ron had no idea what he would say to Harry when he confronted him. To make matters worse, Ron had detention with Snape that evening, and there was no telling what the sadistic Potions master and his greasy goatee had in store for him.

Breakfast was spent doing his Divination homework. He'd forgotten to work on Trelawney's dream journal the night before since he was busy dwelling on his odd encounter with Luna Lovegood in the seventh floor corridor.

He noticed Luna waving and smiling at him from the Ravenclaw table where she, like him, sat at the very end, without so much as a friend nearby. He gave her a nod of acknowledgement and Luna went back to eating her porridge.

A quick glance at the Slytherin table found Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle enjoying their breakfast and laughing maliciously about something, but no sign of Harry. Not that Ron would have approached him at the Slytherin table even if he were present. Ron was just trying to keep tabs on him…just in case.

Ron then let his gaze travel up his own House table. As always, Neville and Hermione were sitting across from each other, talking quietly. Every so often, they would glance his way, but never for very long. He was a bit surprised when he saw Ginny walk up to Neville and sit next to him in the empty spot on the bench that Ron suspected was still being saved for him.

Further up the table, Ron saw matching disgruntled looked on Fred and George as they watched their little sister sit down to eat breakfast with _a boy_. Ron fought back a laugh; it was obvious that the twins were fully prepared to play "over-protective big brothers" with any boy Ginny showed interest in.

_"Better them than me."_ Ron chuckled inwardly. It wasn't that he didn't _want_ to be protective of Ginny; regardless of what universe he was in, they were _all_ Weasleys, and that brought with it a sense of familial protectiveness. He just didn't feel it was his place, Weasley or not, since he was an outsider here…an unwelcome outsider judging by the reactions of Fred, George, and Ginny over the last couple of days.

Finally, Ron looked up at the Head table, hoping that a twinkly-eyed Dumbledore would be presiding over the Great Hall with a look that said he'd figured out a way for Ron to easily accomplish his mission and go back home. Unfortunately for Ron, for the second day in a row, there was no sign of the headmaster.

Ron did, however, catch sight of a teacher he didn't recognize at the Head table. She gave the impression of looking very much like a toad; she was squat with a broad, flabby face, very wide, slack mouth, and large round eyes that were slightly bulging.

She wore a pink Alice band in her short, curly brown hair and had a fluffy pink cardigan on overtop her robes which didn't so much serve to make her look _less_ toad-like as it did make her look like a toad who someone had painted an unfortunate shade of pink. Perhaps the sort of prank the twins might pull on Neville's unsuspecting…and constantly misplaced…toad, Trevor.

He couldn't help noticing that, as the new teacher – he assumed she was a teacher – spoke to Professor McGonagall, the Transfiguration teacher had a look on her face as though she'd stepped in something foul. Professor Sprout, too, seemed a bit bemused by the pink-clad woman.

Breakfast ended and any thoughts of who "Toad-Face" might be were tabled as Ron began making his way up towards the North Tower and Divination.

Ron's second day of classes didn't go off much better than his first. He still had a difficult time concentrating as he continued to fret over his impending confrontation with Harry in the afternoon.

Divination was the hardest class to concentrate during since the atmosphere in Professor Trelawney's class was always rather sleep-inducing. The heat from the always-lit fireplace and the heavily perfumed air made staying awake on the best day a chore.

Luckily, as they were studying dream divination, Ron didn't get into trouble when he nodded off halfway through class. He did, however, have to give an impromptu oral report on the dream he'd been having during his "nap".

"I dunno really," Ron began, feeling uncomfortable about sharing something as personal as a dream with the entire rest of the class, "I was running down a hallway here at school; one of the ones with the suits of armor along the walls. The floor was wet and I kept slipping and splashing through puddles. Something big was chasing me and I could hear laughter sort of echoing off the walls. There was something shiny up ahead of me that I was trying to reach before the thing that was chasing me got me."

Professor Trelawney shook her head and declared Ron's dream an omen of ill portent.

"I fear, dear boy, that you shall most likely be dead by Christmas."

Transfiguration was only slightly better than Divination. Ron put supreme effort into paying attention to Professor McGonagall, since he'd already received a lecture from her once and he expected the next step would be detention.

He hadn't practiced the Vanishing Spell that Professor McGonagall had set them for homework. As such he still had difficulty making his snail disappear, though he did finally manage it just before the double period ended.

Lunch for Ron was, again, spent at the very end of the Gryffindor table. He was forced to finish up last night's Care of Magical Creatures homework – a drawing of a bowtruckle – while shoveling as much food into his mouth as possible.

He saw that Neville, Ginny, and Hermione were once again sitting together; this time, however, Hermione had her face buried in a book while Neville and Ginny talked quietly amongst themselves. Either they were inadvertently leaving the bushy-haired girl out of their conversation, or she voluntarily chose to exclude herself. Either way, Ron felt she looked as lonely as he felt.

Again, Malfoy and his two goons were present at the Slytherin table without Harry. With the exception of their previous Care of Magical Creatures class, Ron had yet to lay eyes on Harry Potter around the castle. It was very odd.

Lunch was over faster than Ron would have liked, and in short order the Gryffindor and Slytherin fifth-years were marching down the lawn towards Hagrid's cabin where Professor Grubbly-Plank was awaiting them with the bowtruckles.

Harry showed up for class, as expected, and once again kept himself in the middle of the Slytherin fifth-years. Harry seemed quite bored with the class, and whenever Ron would glance over at him, Harry would be examining his fingernails or yawning or stretching or doing anything and everything other than paying attention to the lesson.

Anytime Hermione would answer one of the professor's questions – which happened quite often – Harry would glare at her with a murderous look on his face. He seemed to despise Hermione and her "know-it-allness" even more than Malfoy did. That wasn't the most unusual thing to happen in class that day, however.

The most unusual thing happened as the class was breaking up for the day and the students started moving back towards the castle. Ron had summoned up all of his Gryffindor courage and began approaching Harry, intent on talking him for the first time. He was stopped in his tracks, however, when Harry noticed him and leveled a hateful gaze at him. Ron could have sworn he saw Harry's eyes flash red before the dark-haired boy turned with a Snape-like flourish of his robes and stalked back towards the school.

Ron stood there, stunned, trying to come to terms with what he'd just seen.

_"It was the sun,"_ he said to himself, _"The sun must've caught Harry's glasses and when it reflected off them, it made his eyes look red. Yeah…that must be it."_

Ron hurried back to the castle lest he be late for Astronomy class, trying his best to ignore the fact that the day had been overcast and threatening rain since morning, and there was no sun out to reflect off Harry's glasses.

Astronomy came and went without much problem for Ron, though Professor Sinistra did give them plenty of homework to keep them occupied at night. His thoughts weren't on the planets and stars they were studying, however; Ron's thoughts were on Harry Potter.

_"There's something wrong with Harry,"_ he said to himself as class ended and he headed down to the Great Hall for dinner, _"Maybe he's under a spell. That would explain the red eyes and the way he's been acting. I bet he's been _Imperiused_! If I could just get him alone, maybe I could break it and bring him back to normal."_

Down in the Great Hall, Ron took up his spot at the end of the table again and began stuffing his face with Shepherd's pie, wanting to get his fill before he had to run off and start his detention with Snape.

As he did every time he sat down to eat, Ron looked over to the Slytherin table to see if he could catch sight of Harry. He wondered if, when he did, the dark-haired boy's eyes would be that disturbing shade of red. However, once again, Harry Potter was not present for mealtime.

_"I've yet to see him in here; I wonder where he eats," _Ron pondered, staring off into space and neglecting his plate full of food, _"If I could figure out where he's spending his mealtimes, maybe I could get him alone and talk to him without any of the bloody Slytherins around. Maybe then I could break whatever spell he's under. If only there was a way to know where he is at all --…bloody Hell!!"_

Ron jumped to his feet as he was hit by a sudden bolt of revelation. He moved towards the middle of Gryffindor table where a group of seventh-years were eating dinner and talking animatedly together…although two of the seventh-years seemed to be forcing the good humor with which they spoke.

"Oi! Fred, George, I need your help," Ron said as he came up behind the Weasley twins.

"Sod off," the twins said in unison, drawing odd looks from their friends for the bitterness in their voices.

"Look you two gits," Ron snapped; he didn't want to bother them or force them to pretend that they _didn't_ resent his very presence, but this was important, "All things being equal, I'd just as soon give you your space, but this is bloody urgent!"

He was met with twin snorts of derision from his "brothers" and confused looks from Lee Jordan, Angelina Johnson, and Alicia Spinnet as they sat, watching the encounter. Ron growled under his breath, balling up his fists and doing everything he could to prevent himself from hexing the twins and just _taking_ what he wanted.

What was worse, he didn't think just coming out and _asking_ for what he wanted in front of the twins' friends would be the best idea. He needed to be subtle. Unfortunately, no matter what universe he was from, Ronald Bilius Weasley was about as subtle as a Bludger to the face. Ron did, however, try his best.

"Err…listen…I need to talk to you about Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs."

Fred and George shared one stunned look and then jumped out of their seats. They grabbed Ron's arms and frog-marched him out of the Great Hall and down several corridors before shoving him into an unused classroom.

"What do you know about Moony…"

"…Wormtail…"

"…Padfoot…"

"…And Prongs?" the twins asked alternating back-and-forth between themselves as they spoke.

"A right bit more than _you_ do, I'd wager," Ron said snidely, smirking at them.

"They're the Marauders," Fred said, glowering at him.

"And they made the Map," George added, glowering as well.

Neither of the twins seemed very happy about Ron discussing one of their best kept and most useful secrets out in the open like he had. Not that he blamed them one bit. If he had the Marauders' Map, he'd keep its existence close to his chest as well. In fact, he didn't possess the Map, and he still kept its existence a secret.

"Like I said," Ron rolled his eyes, "I know more than you."

"Prove it!" the twins said, once more in unison.

Ron sighed and took a deep breath, preparing for a lengthy explanation that would, hopefully, once it was all said-and-done, help convince the twins to give him the Map.

"The Map shows all of Hogwarts and everyone inside it. It was created by a group of students who called themselves the Marauders about twenty years ago. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs were their nicknames."

The twins snorted. "If _that's_ all you've got…"

Ron rolled his eyes. "Moony was actually Remus Lupin; they called him 'Moony' because he was…is…a werewolf…"

"Wait…_Professor_ Lupin?" Fred asked, interrupting.

"Yes," Ron nodded.

"He's a _werewolf_?!" George asked, cutting Ron off before he could continue.

"Yes!" Ron exclaimed, trying to continue.

"Wicked," the twins said together, grinning madly.

"Right," Ron sighed, "So, the others…"

"Is that why Professor Lupin was unable to teach class for three days each month?" Fred asked, not letting Ron go any further.

"Yes!!" Ron said, getting frustrated.

"So, then, the Marauders were all a bunch of werewolves," Fred said, looking at Ron for the answer.

"No, only Lupin," Ron said, shaking his head, "The others were…_are_…Animagi."

"There's something we haven't tried," Fred said, with a devious smile.

"Might be worth looking into," George agreed, sharing the same smile of mischievousness.

"Imagine the havoc we could wreak!"

The twins began whispering to themselves and Ron got the distinct impression that, before the night was through, they'd be combing the Hogwarts library for information on how to become Animagi. When it became obvious they had forgotten about him, Ron cleared his throat loudly, drawing their attention back to him.

"Are you still here?" they asked simultaneously.

"We were talking about the Marauders' Map," Ron said humorlessly. He needed them to pay attention if he was going to convince them to give him the Map.

"Right, so tell us about the Marauders," Fred said, waving for Ron to continue.

"Yeah, what sort of animals did they turn into?" George asked.

"Well, Prongs was really James Potter; he turned into a stag and they called him 'Prongs'…y'know…because of the antlers," Ron spread his fingers out and put his hands up on either side of his head, simulating a stag's rack of antlers.

"James Potter?" Fred said, looking as though he were thinking, "You mean Harry Potter's dad?" Ron nodded in confirmation.

"Too bad one of the Marauders had to go and have a scabby twat like Harry Potter for a kid," George said, smirking and causing Fred to laugh with him.

Ron fought back the urge to hex Fred and George for insulting Harry. He had to keep telling himself that it wasn't his best friend that the twins were insulting, but the git that Harry was on _this_ world.

"Padfoot was Sirius Black," Ron went on, a bit stiffly, "He got his nickname from the huge black dog he turns into...you know...the pads on his feet."

"_The_ Sirius Black?" Fred said, sounding impressed, "Bet he could teach us a thing or two, eh George?"

"Yeah, like how to escape from Azkaban," George laughed, "Should the need ever arise."

"Bet he could give us some pointers on becoming Animagi, too," Fred added wistfully.

"The _final_ Marauder," Ron went on, interrupting the twins before they could start conspiring amongst themselves again, "Was Peter Pettigrew; they called him 'Wormtail' because he changed into a rat...and a rat's tail looks like...well...you can figure that one out yourselves."

"A rat?! Who'd want to change into a rat?" George laughed, "What a worthless animal to become."

"I don't know, George," Fred said, rubbing his chin pensively, "I could see the potential in it. Being small like that would make it easy to sneak into places…like the girls' showers for instance."

"Too true, brother dear," George said, smiling devilishly, "And imagine how funny it would be to impersonate someone's pet and then --…"

"That's _not_ funny!" Ron snapped, cutting George off mid-sentence.

"I see we've hit a sensitive area, George," Fred mocked.

"Does ickle Ronnikins miss his beloved Scabbers?" George teased.

"Not even a little bit," Ron grumbled, "Now listen…I proved to you that I know more about the Marauders' Map than you do, haven't I?"

"What's your point?" the twins asked in stereo.

"I want you to let me have the Map," Ron said bluntly.

Fred and George immediately doubled over with laughter; tears coming to their eyes, they were laughing so hard.

"Why would we give the Marauders' Map to _you_?!" Fred asked, wiping a tear from his eye.

"Well, for one thing, you're seventh-years," Ron said, trying to be diplomatic, "You're not going to need the Map in a few months anyway."

The twins merely scoffed at Ron and waved their hands dismissively at him.

"How about this: as a prefect, I can turn you in for having it if you don't give it to me," Ron said, folding his arms across his chest, "I know for a fact you nicked it from Filch's office when you were first-years. No doubt he'd love to find out what happened to it."

"Why you little --…"

"I didn't realize Percy was still here at Hogwarts," George said, scowling at Ron.

"You don't like that reason? Then how about this one: you hate me and want me out of your lives," Ron continued, his voice unwavering, "That Map can help me complete my mission so I can get out of here and stop bringing pain to your family."

"Sold," Fred said grimly, looking away, "George…give him the Map."

George looked at his twin brother for a moment, trying to determine if he was being completely serious. When he became reasonably sure that Fred was, in fact, not kidding, George unslung his schoolbag from his shoulder and dug a seemingly blank piece of parchment from within.

"To activate it," George said in a quiet, unsure voice, taking out his wand, "You tap it and say --…"

"I know how it works," Ron assured him, "I've seen it in use plenty of times before."

George handed Ron the Map and Ron tucked it into a pocket of his robes. Ron looked over at Fred who was still, pointedly, avoiding looking away from him.

"Thanks a lot," Ron said softly, "For what it's worth, I really appreciate this…"

"Just use it and get the Hell out of here," Fred said bitterly, "So we can all move on with our lives."

Without another word, Ron turned and left the twins in the abandoned classroom. He felt bad for having to poke at the open wound of their brother's death the way he did to get what he wanted from them. He tried telling himself it was for the greater good…it was for the mission…but it didn't stop him from feeling guilty.

Ron was so wrapped up in his thoughts that he didn't noticed the squat figure standing at the end of the hall until he was almost on top of her.

"Hem, hem!"

Ron came to a sudden halt, staring down at the bulging eyes of Toad-Face (for he still didn't know the woman's name).

"What were you doing in this corridor?" she asked in a voice that was high-pitched and seemed as though it should belong on a little girl. Even so, he could detect a note of suspicion in her squeak.

"What'chu mean?" Ron asked, caught flatfooted he resorted to playing dumb.

Her eyes seemed to bulge even more and her slack mouth seemed to purse a bit into an angry sort of pucker as her eyebrows disappeared into the curly brown hair hanging down on her forehead.

"What I mean is: this corridor isn't in use at the present time, so what business is it of yours to be roaming about?" she asked, still squeaky despite her evident anger.

"Oh, right," Ron nodded, as if catching on, "I'm a prefect, see," he pointed to the badge on his lapel, "And I thought I saw someone lurking down there so I thought I'd check it out."

"I saw you leaving the Great Hall with your brothers," she said, her bulging eyes seeming to want to narrow at him, "I've heard about the sorts of trouble they get up to. Where have they disappeared to? Down this corridor, perhaps? Are they planning some sort of mischief?"

"Fred and George? No," Ron said, shaking his head, "No, they came out of the Hall with me but then headed up to our common room to get their homework done. I was about to go up myself when I thought I saw someone lurking…like I said."

"And _was_ someone lurking?" she asked, trying to look past him down the hall.

"Turned out to be Peeves the Poltergeist," Ron lied, "But he buggered off when he saw me; said he was going to go have some fun with the house-elves down in the kitchens."

"Are you lying to me, Mr. Weasley?" she asked, glaring up at him, tapping her pink-shoed foot on the flagged stone floor.

"Lying to you? I don't even know who you are," he said with a chuckle. He had to quickly bury the laugh, however, when the toad-faced teacher seemed to get so flustered she was going to bust her buttons. Her face went from pale to pink to almost purple in the blink of an eye.

"For your information, Mr. Weasley, I am Dolores Umbridge, Senior Undersecretary to the Minister for Magic," Toad-Face said with as much pomposity as she could drum up, "You would do well to show me due respect."

"What's a Senior Underwhatsits doing at Hogwarts?" Ron asked, surprised to find a Ministry official at the school.

"As you would well know, had you attended the Welcoming Feast," Umbridge said condescendingly, "There have been many strange happenings and bizarre occurrences at this school over the past several years: rampaging trolls, kidnapped and petrified students, dead teachers, escaped prisoners running loose; the Ministry has decided to keep a closer eye on Hogwarts before something most unfortunate happens."

"Like a dead student?" he asked sardonically; by his count, there was _already_ a dead student: Cedric Diggory on _his_ world.

"Precisely that, Mr. Weasley," she replied, clapping her hands together, as if happy that he'd understood her purpose at the school…either that, or she was happy about the prospect of dead students, "I sincerely hope that, as a prefect, you'll cooperate with me in any way I deem necessary."

"Riiiight," Ron said, nodding, although he meant the exact opposite, "I'll be sure and do that Senior Undersecretary Umbridge."

"Actually," Umbridge said with a disturbingly girlish giggle, "It's _Professor_ Umbridge. I'm your new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher."

Ron's eyes widened as he imagined this pink, fuzzy toad-of-a-woman trying to teach them how to defend themselves against dark creatures and evil wizards out to get them. "Right, well…good luck with that," Ron said, trying to move around her to return to the Great Hall and finish his dinner, "The position's cursed, you know? No teacher lasts more than a year."

"Silly boy," she said with that disturbing giggle again, "I don't believe in such foolishness. I expect to be around for a very long time."

With that, Toad-Face Umbridge turned on her pink heel and headed back the way she came, _click-clacking _her way across the stone floor leaving Ron to wonder what her presence meant for DADA class and Hogwarts in general.

* * *

**AUTHOR'S END NOTES: **There ya' have it. Umbridge makes her Mirror Universe debut. Maybe I should'a given HER the goatee!!

Next chpater in two weeks!!


	11. Reflected Aggression

**AUTHOR'S NOTES:** Another two weeks have come to pass, and once again it's time for me to post. Not a lot for me to say here, been sick for much of the last week, so I'm not feeling very chatty right now.

But, you people don't come here to listen to me talk, you come to read the story...so here it is. Chapter 11! Enjoy!

**THANK YOU, KINDLY:** As always, thanks to all my super-awesome reviewers for their 213 (at this time) reviews. And an even bigger thanks to CutewithAcapital-Q for being my beta. And thanks to my readers for being the wind beneath my wings.

**DISCLAIMER: **JKR's, not mine...cuz if it was, Ron would'a been the hero and Harry would'a been the selfish emo kid who...wait...that WAS Harry!

* * *

**_MIRROR, MIRROR  
_****Chapter 11  
****"Reflected Aggression"**

"Ah, Mr. Weasley…you're early. I must say, I underestimated you; I didn't think you could _tell_ time."

Ron stood in Professor Snape's office at five-minutes-'til-seven, jaw firmly set as the greasy-haired Potions master insulted his intelligence with a perverse sense of glee. He knew that if he rose to Snape's bait and responded to the insult, the sadistic git would just add to his detention.

"I trust your essay on moonstones will be handed in on time…" Snape sneered from behind his desk.

"Sure it will; I started on it last night," Ron lied.

Snape glared at Ron without saying a word for more than a minute; neither did Ron. He just stood there, looking at the shelves along the wall behind Snape, lest he be drawn in by his goatee and get punished for staring again.

"Well? What are you waiting for, Weasley? Sit down!" Snape snapped, "I haven't got all night to dally with you."

Ron dropped down into the rickety old chair at the front of Snape's desk, causing it to creak dangerously. The Potions teacher immediately shoved a scroll of parchment, a quill, and an inkpot across the desk at him.

"You will be doing lines, Weasley," the professor said snidely, "You will write _'I must show my teachers the proper respect at all times'_…"

Ron was elated; considering some of the detentions he'd had to serve during his time at Hogwarts, tonight he was getting off easy!

"…One _thousand_ times," Snape finished, sneering at him.

So much for getting off easy; by the time he was finished writing his lines, his hand would be too sore for him to do any of his homework. Furthermore, going out to get any broom-time tonight would be out of the question; he'd never get out of detention before curfew went into effect.

Trying to locate Harry tonight would also, no doubt, be a bust. He had tried locating Harry on the Marauders' Map after dinner, but there were so many people at Hogwarts that it was very easy to overlook one name…which is what he _must_ have done, because as Ron sat on his bed with the curtains drawn for privacy, he studied the map for over and hour and could find no sign of Harry Potter anywhere.

"What are you waiting for, Weasley, an engraved invitation? Begin!"

Ron was pulled from his thoughts by Snape yelling at him, and he immediately got to work on his lines. The quill Snape had given him was cut unevenly, so instead of gliding smoothly over the parchment, it dragged across the page, catching every once in a while and making the whole affair take even longer.

More than an hour had passed, and Ron was nowhere near done his thousand lines. To make matters worse, Snape had apparently decided to distract Ron by getting chatty.

"What do you know of the Dark Lord, Weasley?"

Ron looked up from his lines, wondering where this was heading.

"Same as most people, I reckon," Ron said, shrugging as he tried to concentrate on his lines and answer Snape's question at the same time, "Evilest dark wizard in history…began terrorizing the wizarding world thirty years ago…disappeared after his _Killing Curse_ backfired against Harry Potter…found a way to live inside Professor Quirrell while he searched for the Philosopher's Stone…stopped again by Potter…found a way to come back in a new body this past June…and is currently plotting to take over the world while the Ministry pretends he's dead."

Ron finished telling Snape what he knew and the small office grew quiet, except for the scratching of Ron's quill across the parchment and the breathing of the two individuals occupying the room at the moment. After a minute or two, the silence grew unnerving and Ron looked up to find Snape gaping at him in surprise.

"What?" Ron asked, confused, "What'd I do now?"

"You obviously underestimate what _'most people'_ know about the Dark Lord, Weasley," Snape said, once he overcame his initial surprise, "He is a master of deception; convincing the wizarding world that he is no longer a threat is one of the Dark Lord's greatest victories. It allows him to operate from the shadows, biding his time until he is ready to strike. Most of the wizarding world's knowledge of the Dark Lord ends with his disappearance fourteen years ago. The fact that you know so much is positively astounding, as you've always struck me as quite the ignorant fool."

"Cheers," Ron said sarcastically, snorting at Snape's insult.

"Mind your cheek, Weasley," Snape hissed, "There are worse punishments I could devise than doing lines."

"Why are you asking me about You-Know-Who anyway?" Ron asked, scowling, "I'd think a bloke like you…_former_ Death Eater and all…would know all there is to know about him." The way Ron emphasized the word "former" seemed to imply that, perhaps, he didn't think it was quite an accurate description of Snape's allegiance.

Snape jumped up out of his chair, black eyes looking furious, and leaned menacingly across the desk, "You're on dangerously thin ice, Weasley…I suggest you watch your step. Dumbledore may have asked me to keep an eye on you, but that doesn't mean I'm willing to abide you being _'funny'_."

"Hold on…Dumbledore told you to keep an eye on me?" Ron looked up at the greasy-haired Potions master with an expression of complete consternation, "Why does Dumbledore want _you_ watching out for _me_."

"You might be too stupid to understand your value, you insipient buffoon, but the headmaster is _not_. Your presence is necessary to fulfill the prophecy in order to defeat the Dark Lord, therefore the headmaster feels it is his job, and the job of all those loyal to him, to keep you _alive_."

"Wait a tick," Ron said, shaking his head, "Dumbledore told _me_ to keep everything we discussed a secret. If it was so bloody important to keep it a secret, why'd he run off and blab it to _you_?"

"Perhaps Professor Dumbledore feared you would place your trust in _the wrong people_," Snape said with a leering sneer, "That blundering oaf Longbottom, perhaps. It is not your concern _whom_ the headmaster has entrusted with the knowledge of your true identity; all you need concern yourself with is _staying alive_."

"Bollocks, it's not my concern! This is _my neck_ we're talking about here!" Ron shouted, not caring that he was yelling at his Potions instructor, "You may be the Order's spy inside the Death Eaters, but that doesn't mean I trust you!"

Snape swooped down at Ron coming very close to him, hooked sallow nose nearly touching long freckled one. "Do not speak of that here, you imbecile! Hogwarts is not entirely safe…you never know who might be lurking about, trying to overhear your _secrets_. There may already be agents of the Dark Lord within these castle walls."

"Then maybe _you_ should've _Imperturbed_ the room," Ron bit back at him, "Even my mum knows to do that when she doesn't want anyone overhearing the stuff the Order discusses in private."

"How dare you…!" Snape snarled, his black eyes blazing, "I'll stomach no more of your impertinent swaggering tonight, Weasley…_get out_!"

"What about my detention?" Ron asked, pointing at the parchment on the desk.

"OUT!" Snape waved his wand and the parchment Ron had been scrawling his lines on ignited and vanished in a flash.

Ron jumped up out of his chair and made for the door before the enraged Potions master decided to set anything else on fire. He hurried up out of the dungeons and made his way back to the seventh floor and the safety of the Gryffindor common room.

It was still relatively early, only being about nine o'clock at night, so the common room was full-to-bursting with Gryffindors relaxing, doing their homework, or socializing in one manner or another. Ron decided to head upstairs to his dorm and once again check the Marauders' Map to see if he could spot Harry Potter.

"_I solemnly swear that I am up to no good_," Ron said as he touched his wand to the seemingly blank parchment in his hands. He was once again sitting on his bed up in the fifth-year boys' dormitory with the curtains drawn for privacy.

He began his search for Harry down in the Slytherin dungeons. He could see numerous familiar names like Draco Malfoy, Vincent Crabbe, and Gregory Goyle, milling about the Slytherin common room, and Ron found himself fantasizing about being able to push his finger onto their names on the map and squish them like tiny ants.

Theodore Nott and Blaise Zabini were in the Slytherins' fifth-year boys' dorms, but no sign of Harry Potter. There was no sign of him in any of the other dorms or anywhere else in the Slytherin dungeons.

Ron expanded his search to the dungeon corridors; he found Professor Snape moving quickly away from his office, no doubt in a foul mood thanks to their earlier conversation.

"Manky git," Ron mumbled.

For the next two hours, Ron checked and rechecked the map looking for Harry's name, coming up with absolutely nothing. It was after eleven, and his three roommates had gone to bed, one-by-one. Ron was about to give up on the search for Harry and get himself some sleep as well, when he saw something odd moving down the second-floor corridor towards the stairs.

There was a name above the set of footprints moving down the hall, but the name seemed to be smudged or something. It seemed as though the name began with an "H" and ended with an "R" but the rest of the name was unreadable.

Ron had never seen this particular name before on the map, but as he watched, whoever it was made their way down the stairs to the ground floor and then eventually down into the dungeons and eventually the Slytherin common room.

"That's got to be Harry," Ron said, poking at the garbled name with his wand, as if that would clarify the name once and for all. He watched the mysterious name move into the fifth-year boys' dorm almost confirming Ron beliefs, "Why the bloody Hell is his name all squiffy, I wonder."

The other three boys in the dorm were apparently sound asleep now as loud snores coming from their curtained beds were making it hard for Ron to concentrate. The final nail in the coffin of his concentration, however, was the sound of his sister's name being muttered by Neville Longbottom in a manner that made Ron incredibly uncomfortable…and just a little bit angry.

"Cheers, Nev," Ron growled sarcastically as he made his way out of the dorm and down into the common room.

The common room had cleared out during Ron's time up in the dorm, and while schoolbags and piles of books and chessboards and cards and gobstones remained strewn about the room in a haphazard manner, none of the students remained. It was blissfully quiet.

Ron settled down into one of the good armchairs by the fire, and unfolded the Marauders' Map once again. He studied the map, watching as the presumed Harry Potter apparently settled in for the night. Ron watched for the next hour, and the name did not move.

"Guess the evil little twit went to bed," Ron said to himself, yawning, "If my eyes were red like that, I'd want to give 'em a rest m'self. _Mischief managed._"

Ron tapped the map with his wand again, and the diagram of the castle and all the names disappeared, returning it to the appearance of a harmless bit of blank parchment. He yawned again, stretching, as he felt the day catching up to him; Ron's mind began to wander.

He'd been gone from his own dimension…his own world…for the better part of the last four days. He had no idea how things were going back home; he expected that his mum would be having a fit following his disappearance, and she'd no doubt be taking it out on his dad for letting him wander off. He wished there was some way he could get a message to them, to let them know that he was relatively okay.

Harry and Hermione were another matter entirely. Both of his best friends were angry with him at the time of his disappearance, though for completely different reasons. Harry was angry at _everybody_, for keeping him in the dark all summer, and had begun the habit of taking it out on him and Hermione, screaming at them whether it was their fault or not. Hermione was angry at him for his continual dislike of Viktor Krum.

"At least back home, she has the decency to _pretend_ he's not her boyfriend."

Ron's thoughts shifted to the bushy-haired brunette from _this_ world; _she_ was actually _dating_ Krum openly and unapologetically. Ron forced himself to face facts: no matter the universe, Ron Weasley wasn't ever going to be good enough for Hermione Granger.

Ron sighed and closed his eyes. The warmth of the fire in front of him was serving to make him more tired, and although he knew he really out to go back upstairs to his dorm and go to bed, the comfortableness of the chair he was in and the soothing warmth of the fire were making him want nothing more than to drift off to sleep right where he was.

He was just starting to nod off when something heavy suddenly landed in his lap. He jumped slightly and his eyes flew open as he became alert once again. Ron looked down at his lap and was understandably surprised to see the large ginger form of Crookshanks curling up and making himself comfortable in his lap.

"Bloody Hell, Crookshanks," Ron almost laughed, "What do you think you're doing?"

The big orange cat looked up at Ron with large yellow eyes bulging out of his squished-in face and started purring contentedly.

"You're a great barmy beast, you know that?" Ron said with a smile, reaching down to scratch the cat behind the ears. He missed Hermione so much that he was even willing to be nice to her cat.

Crookshanks made a noise that seemed to object to being called both barmy and a beast, but the cat made no effort to get up off of Ron's lap…especially since the redheaded boy was scratching him in a pleasing manner. With Ron still scratching him absentmindedly, the big cat eventually faded off to sleep.

It was late, and as little as Ron had felt like getting up to make the climb all the way up to the fifth-year dormitory, the weight of the massive furry cat across his legs made him want to move even less. Figuring that Crookshanks had the right idea, Ron closed his eyes and let sleep take him.

_Ron made his way into the Great Hall and saw his entire family as well as Harry and Hermione seated at the Gryffindor table. Every sound in the hall was drowned out by the loud, keening wails of his bereaved mother._

_"How could you let him go, Arthur?" his mother cried, tears pouring down her wrinkled face, "He wandered off and now I'll never see my Ronnie again! My baby is gone, Arthur, and it's all your fault!"_

_"I wasn't the one who made him run off," his father countered, pointing an accusatory finger at the bushy-haired brunette sitting between Ginny and Harry, "If not for Hermione fighting with him and making him feel sorry for himself, Ron never would have left."_

_"You filthy Muggle!" his mother screeched, jumping to her feet and leveling a hateful gaze at Hermione, "You cost me my son! I took you in and treated you like one of my own, and this is how you repay me?!"_

_"It's not _my_ fault Ronald is so worthless and stupid that he chose to run away," Hermione replied haughtily with her nose in the air obstinately, "I think we're all well-rid of him."_

_"She has a point, Molly dear," his father said calmly, leading his wife back to her seat, "Plus, we _do_ have Harry."_

_"Harry, of course!" his mother exclaimed happily, jumping to her feet once again and sweeping Harry up in a great crushing hug, "You've always been my favorite son, Harry dear, and now that there's an opening in the family, we can make you an _official_ Weasley!"_

_Harry's head of shaggy black hair began changing, until it was a shockingly red mop of hair and his face began sprouting freckles. The rest of the family, and Hermione, looked on and applauded as Harry transformed into a Weasley right before their eyes._

_"What _is_ all this?" Ron yelled, making his presence known to his family for the first time since he entered the Great Hall._

_"Go away, Ron, we don't need you anymore," his mother said, waving a dismissive hand in his direction as she planted a loving motherly kiss on Harry's cheek. She waved her wand, and Harry was suddenly dressed in a maroon Weasley jumper…_his_ Weasley jumper._

_"You've been replaced, ickle Ronniekins," Fred said with an evil grin…more evil than any grin either of the twins had ever sported before._

_"We've got a hero for a brother, now," George added, his face just as evil-looking as his twin._

_"And he's rich, too," Ginny said, looking admiringly at her 'new' brother, "No more hand-me-downs for the youngest Weasley son anymore!"_

_"Thanks for running away, Ron," redheaded Harry said with a huge smile on his now-freckled face, "Now I'm a _true_ Weasley…and I've even got _my_ prefect's badge, too!" Harry pointed proudly at the gleaming scarlet-and-gold badge on his maroon-clad chest._

_"That's mine!" Ron protested, reaching out as if to grab the badge, "That's my sweater, too!"_

_"Not anymore," Harry laughed, shaking his head, "It's _all_ mine now! If you'll excuse us, we're all going home to the Burrow so we can paint _my_ bedroom maroon."_

_The Great Hall was filled with nine loud _cracks_ as the entire Weasley family, including the newly Weasleyed Harry Disapparated._

_"Apparition doesn't work on Hogwarts grounds!" Ron yelled, "It says so in _Hogwarts, A History_!"_

_There was a snide laugh behind him, and Ron turned to see Hermione sneering at him. She was dressed as she had been at the Yule Ball, but instead of looking beautiful, she looked cruel and hateful._

_"Obviously, you never bothered to read the book, you thick-headed idiot," she laughed viciously, "Otherwise, you'd know it works for Harry Potter…_everything_ works for Harry Potter!"_

_There was another loud _crack_ and Viktor Krum appeared next to Hermione._

_"It also vorks if you are rich," Krum laughed, taking Hermione's hand and bringing it to his lips, kissing it and causing Hermione to giggle uncharacteristically, "Everything vorks ven you are rich."_

_"Too bad you're poor and just a nobody," Hermione said, her eyes dancing mockingly, "Nothing _ever_ works if you're a poor nobody."_

_"Herm-own-ninny," Krum said in an even thicker Bulgarian accent than usual, "I haff come to take you avay to my castle in Bulgaria, vare you and I vill live together forever."_

_"Take me, Viktor, I'm yours!" Hermione exclaimed, swooning._

_Viktor gathered Hermione up into her arms and they kissed passionately for what seemed like an eternity. Finally, when they were finished snogging, the couple Disapparated with two explosive _cracks_, bringing the ceiling of the Great Hall crashing down on Ron's head._

_"Hermione, no! Come back!" Ron yelled, dodging the debris as it rained down on his head, "Hermione!"_

_Ron suddenly felt a great piercing pain in his thighs that made him cry out._

"OWWWWW!" Ron yelled, his eyes snapping open to find himself back in the common room. He'd been dreaming…but the pain was real.

"Crookshanks, let go!"

As Ron's vision came fully into focus, he found the object of his dream standing over him, trying to extract Crookshanks from his lap. The big orange cat obviously didn't want to move, for its claws were dug firmly into Ron's thighs.

"Let go, Crookshanks…you'll wake him!" Hermione pleaded with her cat in a frantic whisper.

"Bloody Hell, woman!" Ron yelled, startling the girl, "Mind the claws!"

Hermione stopped trying to pull Crookshanks away when she realized that the cat was attached to a rather sensitive portion of Ron's anatomy. She blushed and looked away, letting go of her cat.

"I didn't mean to wake you," she said embarrassedly.

"I think that broom has flown," he said, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He looked around the common room and saw that it was still empty, except for the two of them and the cat.

Hermione had crouched down on the floor in front of Ron's chair, affording him the chance to study her close-up for the first time since his arrival. Everything about her was so much like _his_ Hermione, and yet there was something that seemed so completely different.

It wasn't just her teeth, which had never been magically shrunken like they had on his world. The difference between the two Hermione was her bearing. The Hermione Granger he knew had a sort of confidence about her that this girl lacked. Sure, he'd seen _his_ Hermione look this way…stubborn pride masking a sense of fragility…but he usually only saw it during the brief periods of their friendship when some stupid argument had alienated them.

Ever since the troll incident way back in First Year, the Hermione he knew had a strength about her that only faltered when the two of them weren't speaking. If he didn't know better, Ron would say that the girl before him lacked that strength because she didn't have Ron Weasley as her best friend.

_"That's mental,"_ he scoffed inwardly, _"How could being _my_ friend possibly make Hermione a stronger person?"_

"You're staring at me."

Ron was ripped from his thoughts by Hermione's voice. She sounded uncomfortable and when he focused his attention back on what was going on around him, he noticed that she was blushing and looking away.

"I didn't mean to stare," he said, sounding slightly nervous himself, "I guess I'm just not used to being this close to you."

Her head whipped around to face him, and her eyes seemed to be shifting from hurt to anger in a matter of seconds. The rapid change was startling, as Ron saw her go from the confused, unsure girl he'd seen over the last two days back to the angry, hateful girl he encountered on his first night here.

"Well, I certainly don't mean to be invading your personal space," she snapped, "As soon as I retrieve my cat, I shall leave you in peace!"

Hermione started to get to her feet, but Ron grabbed her wrist to stop her.

"Calm down, Hermione," he said, trying to understand her reaction, "You're not invading anything…don't go!"

She looked up at him suddenly and their eyes met; warm, earthy brown and cool, ocean blue locked together in a moment that seemed to stretch on forever. They were less than a foot apart and Ron could see the warring emotions dancing in Hermione's eyes. He could see that she didn't know what to think of him.

Four years of animosity had hardened her to him. She wanted to hate him; to be indifferent to him, at the very least. She wanted to see him as nothing and nobody, but Ron could see the confusion, the conflict in her eyes. He'd given her some strange signals over the last couple of days and it was obvious she didn't know what to think. Her instinct, though, seemed to be to fall back on hostility towards him when in doubt.

"Get off me!" Hermione snapped, trying to pull free of his grasp, "How dare you put your hands on me?!" Crookshanks took this opportunity to abandon Ron's lap and watch the impending conflict from under one of the work tables across the room.

"I'm just trying to keep you from running off," Ron tried to explain, still holding tight to her wrist, "Merlin's beard, Hermione, you treat me like I'm Draco Malfoy or something!"

Hermione narrowed her eyes at him and when she spoke, her voice was icy cold, "Maybe that's because, in my opinion, the only thing that separates you from Draco Malfoy is the house you were sorted into."

Ron's eyes widened; he couldn't believe she just said that. Her comment stung, but more than just hurting him, it angered him. His eyes narrowed just as hers had done and he gritted his teeth as he snapped at her.

"So I'm no better than Malfoy in your eyes?!"

It was a rhetorical question, she knew, but Hermione decided to answer anyway. "That's right," she said, jutting her chin out at him defiantly. She continued to struggle to get free, but his grip on her wrist was too strong. "You're both cut from the same cloth; you're just a pair of hateful little boys who care about nothing and no one but yourselves! It's surprising, really, that you're not best friends!"

"All I care about is myself?!" he yelled, inadvertently tightening his grip on her wrist and pulling her closer to him, "Whose cat did I pull out of a bloody toilet? Who did I stand up for in Care of Magical Creatures?"

"And I'm sure you've got an ulterior motive for that," she said haughtily, "No doubt, with OWLs coming up this year, you're trying to get on my good side so I'll help you with your studying."

"Help me with my --…?! You're delusional, Hermione; I don't give a damn about the OWLs! I did those things because I care about you!"

"_Care about me_?!" Hermione scoffed, laughing derisively, "Oh, please…you've spent the last four years making me wish I'd never received a letter from Hogwarts in the first place!"

"I…really?" Ron was so stunned to hear that, he let go of her wrist and felt all the fight and anger go out of him. It didn't matter that this wasn't _his_ Hermione who felt that way, or that it wasn't really _him_ she was talking about; the effect was the same. "Hermione, I'm sorry. I had no idea."

"Don't bother apologizing to me, Ronald Weasley, because I don't want to hear it," she replied, rubbing at her wrist where he'd gripped it too tight, "You've been horrible to me for four years and I'm supposed to believe that, all of a sudden, and for no reason whatsoever, you've started to care about my feelings?"

"I…" Ron didn't know what to say to that. He couldn't very well tell her the truth, that the Ron Weasley who'd hurt her is dead and he was a replacement Ron Weasley from another dimension. It sounded completely mental in his head.

"I've seen the way you treat the people you supposedly care about!" Hermione continued, her tone as cold as ever, "Neville's afraid to talk to you, and your own sister can't even stand to be in the same room with you…God only knows what you did to her."

"That's not my fault," Ron said lamely, "Hermione, please…"

"That's another thing," she snapped, "Since when are we on a first name basis, _Ron_? You've always just called me 'Granger' before."

"I…" he tried to think of an explanation that wasn't a lie, but at the same time didn't give away the truth about himself and his mission, "Things change, Hermione…people change. You have to believe me…I'm not the same Ron Weasley you've known all these years; I'm a completely different bloke entirely."

She laughed in his face as he said that. "The only thing I have to believe is that you either think I'm very gullible or very stupid to fall for that rubbish!"

"Hermione…"

"Stop!" she yelled, "Just stop it! All I want to do is get my cat and go to bed. Kindly leave me to it."

Hermione got up from her spot on the floor at Ron's feet and made her way across the room to the work table, trying to coax Crookshanks out from under it. The cat, stubborn as he was, however, refused to come out.

"Hermione, please don't go yet," he pleaded, getting up and moving after her, "We need to resolve this."

"There's nothing to resolve," Hermione said over her shoulder as she got down on her hands and knees and tried to fish her huge ginger cat out from under the table; he still refused to cooperate, "Now, please leave me alone so I can get my cat."

"Hermione, please…what can I do to make you believe that I want us to be friends?" his voice was full of sincerity, but as yet it appeared to be falling on deaf ears.

"What makes you think I want to be _your_ friend?" she snapped nastily, "You made it very clear to me during our First Year that you didn't want my friendship. You called me a _'nightmare'_, remember?"

"Of course I remember," he said shamefully, looking away from her, "How can I ever forget that night? I nearly got you killed."

"What?" she looked up at the sound of remorse in his voice. He had his back turned, unable to look her in the eye.

"The troll," he said simply, "It nearly killed you because you were in that bathroom crying…all because of what I said to you."

"Yes, well, luckily your brother came looking for me," she replied, sitting back on her haunches and looking off into the fire, "Percy saved my life."

It took Ron a second to realize he was thinking about the way the events had played out on _his_ world, and not how they had happened _here_ for _this_ Hermione. He recalled the memories of this world's Ron Weasley and how that night had happened for _him_.

"That's not what happened," Ron said, looking over at her briefly, but looking away before she could catch him, "I mean, Percy did save you, yeah, but he was only down there because he was chasing…err…me. Percy wanted to leave it to the head boy and head girl to go looking for you; if he hadn't seen me sneaking out of the common room, he never would've been anywhere near that troll."

"You expect me to believe that?" she snapped, jumping to her feet.

"You tell me," he snapped back unintentionally. She was lionizing his brother Percy…the brother who had abandoned his family, who wished he had never been born a Weasley. How could she sound like she admired him, of all people? "Which sounds more like that prat Percy? Doing things by-the-book when a problem comes along, or running off to play hero and risk his life for a first-year he barely knew?"

"Is that funny to you?" Hermione asked bitterly, "Trying to make me feel insignificant? The only reason I'm alive is because Percy happened to stumble upon me while he was chasing after you?"

"What? No!" Ron exclaimed, shaking his head. He'd hurt her feelings, he could tell, and he absolutely hated doing that, "Hermione, you're just about the furthest thing from insignificant that I can think of. Bloody Hell, 'Mione, if you were insignificant, would I have bothered coming to find you that night?"

"Why should I believe that you came after me?" she asked. She was obviously fighting back tears, "You've been so cruel to me over the years."

"The way I saw it, you…err…_we_ were cruel to each other," he replied, thinking back on the memories he'd viewed the other night.

"Only because you started it," Hermione said, sounding a bit childish.

"Actually," Ron said with a half-smile, "If you want to know the truth…_you_ did."

"What?!" she exclaimed, obviously put out by such an accusation, "I did not!"

Ron sighed; she could be so stubborn. "Do you remember when we met on the train?"

"Yes," Hermione nodded, "You tried to do a spell that didn't work. I think you were trying to turn your rat yellow."

"Yeah," Ron nodded, chuckling sardonically at the memory everyone could remember, no matter what dimension they originated from, "The twins gave me that spell…should've known it was rubbish. The point is, though, when you came into the compartment, you were really condescending and acted like you were better than me. Then, of course, you started going on and on about Harry Potter and all the books he's been in…you sort of treated me like an afterthought; talk about feeling insignificant."

"I didn't mean to act that way," Hermione replied defensively, her voice still possessing a slight edge, "I was nervous and desperate for people to like me."

"It kinda had the opposite effect," he sighed, "At least on me."

"So that's why you were so mean?" she asked as if the answer to one of the great mysteries of the universe had been presented to her.

"That's how it started, yeah," he said shamefacedly, "It all just sort of snowballed from there…until four years later, you think I hate you, and you 'nothing' me."

Hermione flushed with embarrassment when he said that to her, throwing her own words back in her face. "I shouldn't have said that; I'm sorry, Ron. I just…"

"You thought I did something to your cat," Ron said, as if explaining her actions away, "You were upset. I reckon I understand…though it's probably one of the worse things you've ever said to me."

"I really hurt you by saying that, didn't I?" she said, surprised at the sound of pain in his voice.

"It's fine, Hermione," he said, waving her off, "Just forget about it." It was obvious, though, that it wasn't fine. Truth be told, when Hermione had said that, Ron felt as though his heart had broken…though he wasn't about to confess _that_ to her.

"I can't believe you'd be upset by something _I_ said," she said, shaking her head, "I mean, since when does anything I say to you matter?"

"Like I said," he replied, looking off into the dying embers of the fire, "I'm not the same Ron Weasley you've known for the last four years; _everything_ you say matters to me."

"You…you _have_ changed," she admitted, "I can see that."

"You just don't know if it's a change for the better, yeah?" he said, putting words in her mouth, "You don't know if you can trust me."

"I didn't say that!" she exclaimed, sounding a bit frantic, "I just…you've been acting odd, and Neville's worried about you, and your own sister doesn't even want to hear your name mentioned. I mean, I don't know Ginny very well, but obviously you've done something…"

"It's a family matter," Ron said cryptically, hoping that would be the end of it, "I plan to take care of it soon."

"And Neville…?" Hermione asked, narrowing her eyes at him.

"That was a misunderstanding," Ron said lamely.

"So you _didn't_ attack him outside of Herbology?" she asked condescendingly.

Ron sighed in frustration, roughly running his fingers through his hair, "I'd just found out he wanted to date my sister; I overreacted."

"He's liked her since last year, you know," Hermione said as if talking to a small child, "It's why he asked her to the Yule Ball."

"It came as a shock, is all," he replied, feeling bad that he _had_ attacked Neville, "He never said anything to me about it…dating her, I mean."

"Why should he have to?" she asked, her voice taking on the uppity tone that usually led to them arguing loudly, "Their relationship doesn't involve you; it's about _them_."

"You don't understand how things are in my family," he said, wishing they could talk about anything else besides his little sister and her love-life, "Ginny is the first girl born into the Weasley line in several generations; as a result, we…her brothers…have all been conditioned to protect her because she's the girl and the baby. I feel a bit overprotective now, because I feel like I let her down back during Second Year."

"What…you mean when you were petrified?" Hermione asked, "It wasn't _your_ fault that you couldn't look out for her during that time."

Ron gave her a quizzical look. That hadn't been what he meant at all. He felt guilty for not paying more attention to his sister that year; he felt that his neglect of her led directly to her falling under the sway of Tom Riddle's diary. Of course, it didn't happen that way _here_, and once again, Ron had to force himself to stop thinking like himself and to start thinking like _this_ world's Ron Weasley.

"Err…yeah. Yeah, that's what I mean. I was out for six months, and I feel like I abandoned her."

"Well, your other brothers could have looked after her," Hermione said, matter-of-factly, since she didn't know the truth, "Percy and the twins were perfectly capable of keeping an eye on her."

"Still…that's why I feel overly protective of Ginny," Ron said, shrugging. He didn't expect her to understand. He didn't expect anyone to understand.

"Well it's silly, isn't it?" Hermione scoffed, "I mean, I understand being protective, but you attacked your best friend because he had the _gall_ to want to date your sister."

"Look, I'm sorry, okay?!" Ron snapped.

"Don't tell me, tell Neville!" she snapped back, "He's the one who's afraid of you now."

He sighed sadly. "I didn't mean to make him afraid of me…Hell, I don't know what I mean to do. There's just so much going on…"

"Well, sure the OWLs --…" she began, but he cut across her.

"Not the OWLs! I don't care about the bloody OWLs! I'll be lucky to be alive to _take_ the bloody OWLs!"

"What? What do you mean?" she asked, looking concerned and confused.

"Nothing," he said, realizing that in his anger, he'd very nearly let the truth slip out, "I'm tired. Good night, Hermione."

Before Hermione could say another word, Ron ran up the stairs to the boys' dorm, mentally kicking himself for being so stupid as to nearly reveal everything to the bushy-haired brunette downstairs. The problem was, he'd always had a problem holding his tongue around Hermione…it was something he was going to have to work on from now on, lest he endanger his chances of making it back to his own dimension.

* * *

**AUTHOR'S END NOTES:** There you have it...a little Ron/Hermione time for all those people who've been desperately waiting for it. Does this solve all their problems? Look who yer askin'!

See you in two weeks!


	12. Reflected Enlightenment

**AUTHOR'S NOTES:** Okay, well, it's been six LONG weeks since I've updated this story, and judging by the various private messages I got from some readers (fans, some of you call yourselves, though I refuse to believe I'm worthy of having fans), people have been wondering just where the jolly Hell I've been. Well, let me say this: you can rest assured that wherever I was, I was NOT having a good time.

About 10 days before I was scheduled to post this chapter (so, late August), I took a head-first fall down three flights of concrete steps (complete with steel skid-plates) at work and busted myself up considerably. I was in the hospital for more than a week due to the injuries from my fall (which the ambulance driver and even the doctors said I was lucky wasn't fatal considering I used my face and head to cushion my fall and eventual landing). So, much of my time over the last six weeks has been spent lying on my back, unable to sit up comfortably let alone type up an adequate story chapter.

I had managed to get about half this chapter done before my accident, but all that meant was that the damn thing was taunting me to finish it while I lay recuperating.

I'm home now and mostly better. While I'm still recovering, I'm at least able to sit up for lengthy periods of time (though it does get painful after a while) and that means I've managed to complete this chapter.

I was leary as to the quality of this chapter, considering how, after six weeks, I was incredibly rusty where writing creatively was concerned. However, my beta assures me that she thinks it's "a fine chapter". That's good enough for me.

You cannot BELIEVE how happy I am to have finally finished this chapter. I HATE making you good people wait an inordinate amount of time between posts. I was tempted to post an update just to let everyone know WHY I wasn't updating...but I didn't want to give everyone false hope that a new chapter was posted, only to find themselves reading a notice that stated the chapter wouldn't be posted until further notice. I'm always severely disappointed when I see those sorts of updates, and I didn't want to disappoint you...my fans (if you'll allow me that slight burst of swelled ego)...any more than I already was.

So, here it is...Chapter 12. I hope you enjoy it!

**THANK YOU KINDLY: **A big Uncle BlackHawk thank you to CutewithAcapital-Q for continuing to be my beta on this. I really do appreciate the input. Thank you also to every one of you wonderful people who have reviewed this story for me (244 reviews as I type this). I respond to all my reviews, so you've all no doubt already received my thanks before, but thanks again! And thanks to everyone who PM'ed me, wondering where the Hell I was and when the Hell I'd get back on the stick and post a chapter. It's nice to know I was missed!

**DISCLAIMER:** As always, Harry Potter and all that stuff belongs to J.K. Rowling.

* * *

**_MIRROR, MIRROR  
_Chapter 12  
"Reflected Enlightenment"**

Ron did his best to avoid everyone the next day. He was still kicking himself over very nearly revealing everything to Hermione the night before. The whole business of ignoring who he was and what he knew and pretending to be the other Ron and knowing what _he_ knew was threatening to give him a permanent headache.

He pretended to oversleep, so that the dorm would be empty when he finally got out of bed. Checking the Marauder's Map, he wasn't all that surprised to find that the mash-up of garbled letters that he took to be Harry Potter was nowhere to be seen.

"Where does that little bleeder disappear to?" Ron asked himself as he closed the map and got read for another day, "It's almost like he's --…bloody Hell, he's invisible!"

Ron slapped himself in the forehead for not figuring it out sooner. Harry must be using his dad's old invisibility cloak to sneak around the castle, unseen by even the Marauder's Map.

"Now what do I do? I'll never be able to track him down if he's invisible all the time. I need to talk to Dumbledore about this."

By the time Ron made it down to the Great Hall, it was nearly empty; as was his stomach. Constructing half-a-dozen quick bacon sarnies, Ron wrapped the lot in a napkin and shoved them in the pocket of his robe, intending to eat them on the go.

There was no sign of Dumbledore at the high table yet again, but Ron spied the next best thing; he hurried towards the dais and the staff table sitting upon it. Pink-clad Professor Umbridge was talking with Professor McGonagall, but the severe look on the Transfiguration teacher's face made it obvious that she wasn't enjoying the conversation.

"Excuse me, Professor McGonagall," Ron said, clearing his throat as he interrupted, "Would it be alright if I spoke to you for a moment?"

"Hem, hem," Umbridge squeaked, "Can't you see that your instructors are in the middle of a conversation? What business is it of yours to interrupt?"

Ron opened his mouth to say something, but McGonagall beat him to it.

"It's quite alright, Dolores," the deputy headmistress said, standing up, "Weasley is one of my prefects; no doubt this is Gryffindor business. Come, Weasley, we'll speak out in the entrance hall."

Professor McGonagall descended the dais and made her way out of the Great Hall faster than Ron would have ever been able to believe her capable of. Once in the entrance hall, she led him to the same unused corridor he'd been in with Fred and George.

"I want to thank you, Weasley, for rescuing me from that insipid conversation," the professor said once they stopped walking, "Dolores Umbridge is completely insufferable. Ten points to Gryffindor for your excellent timing."

Ron couldn't help but smile, "Thanks, Professor, but I really did need to talk to you."

"Out with it then, Weasley," she said, nodding.

"I need to see Dumbledore," he said plainly.

"Mr. Weasley, the headmaster is a very busy man," McGonagall said, her mouth a firm straight line, "He can't be expected to grant an audience to a student just because the student wants to have a chat."

"But --…"

"However," she said, raising a hand to stop his protests, "Considering your special circumstances, I'll see what I can do."

"My special…? Does _everyone_ know about me?" he asked, once again wondering why Dumbledore instructed him to keep things under wraps when he was off telling half the school's faculty.

"Only those most trusted by Dumbledore, Mr. Weasley," McGonagall said, "So please remain calm."

"Right; sorry, Professor," he said sheepishly.

"Off with you now, Weasley; classes have begun, and I'm sure Professor Sprout misses you already."

* * *

Herbology went by mercifully quickly, with Ron partnering up with Susan Bones in an attempt to continue to avoid Neville and Hermione. Yes, he'd had a nice long talk with Hermione, and some things had been resolved, but the fact of the matter was that he had come very close to telling her _everything_, and while it seemed as though it was perfectly acceptable for Dumbledore to go around spilling the beans to everyone he thought might get a chuckle out of the situation, Ron still felt bound to keep everything a secret.

That didn't stop the shy smiles from Hermione to keep being thrown his way every now and again, giving him hope that, even if he had to keep his true identity a secret, maybe he wouldn't have to be completely alone anymore.

Double Potions followed Herbology, and it was nowhere near as easy to deal with as Herbology had been. Snape was his usual charming self, taking pleasure in berating and belittling and penalizing the Gryffindors every chance he got. The Slytherins, as always, were smug and pompous, and Ron couldn't help noticing that Harry seemed smuggest of all. He sat back and allowed Draco Malfoy to do his work for him. If Snape noticed, he said nothing.

Worst of all, for Ron, was the fact that he hadn't done his assigned essay on moonstones. This cost him points and a failing grade, though for whatever reason, the Potions master was reluctant to give him detention. Perhaps their previous night's confrontation was still fresh in Snape's mind, and he didn't want a repeat.

At the end of the double period, it was time for lunch, and everyone – Gryffindors and Slytherins alike – began making the trek up out of the dungeons towards the Great Hall. Ron made a point of dragging his feet and bringing up the rear.

Every day at every meal, Ron had noticed that Harry did not show up in the Great Hall. This had Ron curious. Where was he going and what was he doing? Today, Ron was going to do his best to find the answer to those questions, even if it meant skipping a meal. (He still had a couple of bacon sandwiches leftover from breakfast in his robe pocket, so he wouldn't be going completely hungry.)

As Ron expected, when everyone else had started filing into the Great Hall for lunch, Harry separated from the pack. The bespectacled Slytherin made his was up the marble staircase, prompting Ron to follow him at a distance.

Once he was out of sight of the other students, Ron fully expected Harry to don his invisibility cloak and disappear from view, making it easier to steal around the castle unimpeded, and making it next to impossible for him to be followed. Ron was pleasantly surprised when Harry remained visible the entire time.

_"Why doesn't he use the cloak?"_ Ron pondered as he continued to trail the other boy, _"If I had the bloody thing, I'd certainly wear it if I was going to sneak around the school in broad daylight."_

Ron didn't have long to think about Harry's continued visibility before he found himself on the second floor, making his way down an all-too-familiar hallway as quietly as he could. When he saw Harry enter an even-more-familiar bathroom, things started to fall into place for the redhead.

_"Is that where Harry's been going all this time?" _Ron asked himself as he crept down the hall, _"He's been going to Myrtle's bathroom?"_

He moved up to the girls' bathroom and listened at the door; the only thing Ron could hear from within the lavatory was Moaning Myrtle's whimpering.

"Harry?" Ron pushed open the bathroom door and called out to the Slytherin boy, half-expecting to be hexed as soon as he entered the lavatory. There was no sign of Harry Potter.

"What are _you_ doing here?!" Myrtle snapped, her head passing through the door of one of the cubicles to glare hatefully at Ron, "Come to steal from me again?"

"Where'd Harry go, Myrtle?" Ron asked, ignoring her comment about stealing. He had a fairly good notion of where Harry went, but he wanted some sort of confirmation from the ghost girl.

"The mean boy with the glasses?" Myrtle whined, "He called me a Mudblood and laughed at me for being dead."

"So, where'd he go?" Ron asked again, turning his back on Moaning Myrtle and making his way towards the sinks…the sinks where the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets lay hidden.

"I don't know; I was in my cubicle," Myrtle explained, "I don't like being called a Mudblood."

"Of course not," Ron said, reaching out and running a finger along the snake shape scratched into one of the copper taps, "Is that all he did? Called you a name and laughed at you and then he just vanished?"

"He said something," the ghost girl admitted, "But I was too distraught to hear him."

"Of course you were," Ron grimaced.

"This isn't the first time he's been in here, you know," Myrtle said, "He comes in several times a day."

It all made sense to Ron now. Everything he had seen in his counterpart's memories and everything he'd experienced on his own seemed crystal clear now. Harry was going down into the Chamber of Secrets. His eyes had flashed red because he was no doubt under the sway of Tom Riddle's diary. Ron felt slightly giddy as all the pieces fell into place, like watching a chessboard and seeing how every possible move would play out until he eventually declared "checkmate".

"All I have to do is destroy that diary and Harry stops being evil…and I can go home!"

Ron punched the air and _whooped_ for joy. He could fulfill the prophecy and complete his mission. Things were definitely looking up for Ron Weasley.

"Hem, hem."

Ron turned swiftly on his heel and came face-to-face with Professor Umbridge standing in the bathroom doorway.

"I do hope you have a reasonable explanation for being in the _girls'_ lavatory, Mr. Weasley," Umbridge said, her bulging eyes glaring at him beadily, "Or am I to believe that _this_ is part of your prefect duties? Seen someone lurking about again, did you?"

"As a matter of fact, yeah I did," Ron said, not wanting the toad-faced professor to give him detention, but not wanting to reveal too much to her, either. He didn't trust her. "I _did_ see someone, but it just turned out to be Moaning Myrtle."

"Who?" Umbridge asked, looking about. She was obviously unfamiliar with the temperamental ghost girl.

"Me!!" Myrtle wailed, poking her head through one of the cubicle doors again. She startled the pink-clad professor and made her jump nearly a foot in the air.

"You stupid ghost!" Umbridge snapped, holding her hand to her chest as if she feared her heart might stop, "How dare you frighten me that way! Do you have any idea who I am?!"

"No," Myrtle giggled, before moving back through the door to the cubicle and diving headlong into the toilet, causing it to flood.

Professor Umbridge immediately began stepping back as fast as she could to keep out of the way of the water. Ron followed her out of the bathroom, fighting the urge to smirk at the DADA instructor's first meeting with Moaning Myrtle.

"Myrtle lives in this bathroom, Professor," Ron explained, "So it's pretty well abandoned."

"She's a _ghost_, Mr. Weasley," Umbridge said, once she was sure she'd backed far enough away to avoid the toilet water that was seeping out from under the bathroom door, "She doesn't _live_ anywhere."

"Well, whatever you want to call it," Ron replied, turning away and rolling his eyes, "She does it in _that_ bathroom…usually in the U-bend of one of the toilets."

"That does not excuse _you_…a _boy_…from being inside a _girls'_ lavatory, Mr. Weasley," Umbridge said stepping up to him and grabbing his sleeve as if to drag him away, "Perhaps a night of detention will --…"

"_There_ you are, Mr. Weasley."

Ron and Umbridge both looked up to see Professor McGonagall standing at the end of the hallway looking severe as usual. Ron could have sworn he saw the look on her face become more severe once she noticed Professor Umbridge walking with him.

"I just caught your prefect lurking in one of the girls' lavatories, Minerva," Professor Umbridge said with a squeak of glee in her too-high voice, "Surely _that_ isn't part of his assigned duties."

"Surely not," McGonagall said, shooting Ron a look of supreme displeasure, "I think perhaps this requires a most severe punishment, Mr. Weasley."

"Excellent!" Umbridge squeaked, clapping her hands excitedly, taking pleasure in whatever horrible fate awaited the redhead.

Ron gave Professor McGonagall a confused look and when she shot him a meaningful look, he seemed to get the message and decided to play along.

"But, Professor…"

"No buts, Weasley," McGonagall replied sternly, "Come along…now. And once I've finished disciplining you, I think perhaps a letter to your mother concerning your activities might be in order."

"Anything but that!" Ron exclaimed, the very thought of what his mother might say if she thought he was making a habit of lurking about in the girls' loo sent a shudder of fear through him, even though he knew it was all an act; the fear was still real.

Umbridge's squeaky giggles as they left her behind in the second floor hallway sent another shudder through Ron. She seemed to take pleasure in the misery of her students. Or, perhaps, it was just in _his_ misery, since he'd never seen how she interacted with other students. Either way, he was quite sure that Umbridge would rank along with Snape and Lockhart as his least-favorite teachers ever.

"Honestly, Mr. Weasley," McGonagall said as they moved down the stairs towards the Transfiguration teacher's office, "What were you doing in the girls' lavatory? This sort of…deviant behavior…is unacceptable."

"Professor, please…I'm no pervy git. I was in there because of…err…_you-know-what_."

McGonagall gave him an arch look, "I beg your pardon, Mr. Weasley?"

"You know…the thing _I'm_ not supposed to talk about, but Dumbledore has already told half the staff about…"

"I assure you, Mr. Weasley," McGonagall said in a voice that sounded a bit annoyed, "It is a great deal _less_ than half the staff who know your secret. For your sake, I do hope your reasons for being in the girls' lavatory are genuine…"

"Professor…I wouldn't lie to you," Ron said, feeling that, for the most part, that was true, "Besides, with what I just figured out, I'm very close to doing what I need to do!"

McGonagall gave him yet another significant look…something of a sad smile, or so it seemed to Ron. "That is excellent news, Mr. Weasley; you're no doubt anxious to return home."

He nodded and smiled enthusiastically. Anxious to return home was an understatement.

Once they were seated inside her office, Professor McGonagall took a tartan tin out of her desk and opened it, offering Ron a cookie. He gratefully took one and popped it in his mouth. He blushed as he noticed Professor McGonagall watching him with a bemused look on her face.

He swallowed quickly before speaking. "You're not _really_ going to punish me for being in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, are you?"

"As long as you can promise me that you were _honestly_ in there because of your mission, Mr. Weasley, and not for some _other_ motive."

"I swear, Professor," Ron said sincerely, "I found something out that I really need to speak to Dumbledore about."

"Fine, then, Mr. Weasley," McGonagall said, handing him the biscuit tin again, "Have another biscuit and then get back to the Great Hall; your lunch period will be over soon. When Dumbledore returns from his travels, I'll let him know you need to speak with him."

"Thanks, Professor," Ron said, smiling. He got to his feet, nicked another biscuit from the tin, and headed for the door.

* * *

After lunch, double Charms went by relatively quickly, and before he knew it, Ron was seated in the Defense Against Dark Arts classroom for his very first lesson at the hands of Professor Dolores Umbridge.

Immediately upon starting class, Umbridge ordered the students to begin reading from Wilbert Slinkhard's _Defensive Magical Theory_. Unenthusiastically, the students did as they were told and began reading in silence.

"Mr. Weasley," Umbridge said in her saccharine sweet voice, "Since you saw fit to _miss_ our first lesson, I want you to start reading at Chapter One in order to catch up with the rest of the students."

Ron shrugged and flipped open the book to "Chapter One, Basics for Beginners". He began reading, but quickly found it to be incredibly boring. He absentmindedly began tapping his wand on the page he was reading only to have Umbridge come over to him and grab his wrist.

"Wands _away_, Mr. Weasley," Umbridge said shortly, "There is no need for anyone to have a wand out in this class."

Ron looked around and noticed for the first time that he was the only one to actually have his wand out. "What about when we practice the spells we're learning?"

"You must raise your hand if you wish to ask a question in this class, Mr. Weasley," Umbridge said, turning her back on him and moving to the front of the class.

Ron shook his head and snorted at the ridiculous rules the new DADA instructor was instituting, but he raised his hand just the same. Umbridge, however, kept her back turned for several minutes, as if purposely ignoring Ron and his question. When she finally turned around, she huffed indignantly before calling on him.

"What is it, Mr. Weasley?"

"You never answered my question," Ron said, keeping his hand up, "When we practice spells, will we be allowed to take out our wands then?"

"There will be _no_ practicing of spells, Mr. Weasley," Umbridge replied, looking at him as if the very suggestion was completely ridiculous, "You will learn the _theory_ behind defensive magic, and, provided you study the theory hard enough, you should have no trouble performing the necessary spells for you exams."

"So, we're just gonna _read_ about this stuff and never actually learn how to _do it_?" Ron asked, a bemused smirk on his face, "That's completely barmy!"

"No, Mr. Weasley, that is _safe_!" Umbridge said, glaring at him with her bulging eyes, "For too long, the safety conditions here at Hogwarts have gone unchecked, and far too many students have been injured in what is _supposed_ to be a _safe_ environment."

"How is _not_ learning spells to defend ourselves supposed to keep us safe?" Ron asked. By this point, the other students had abandoned their reading and were watching the exchange between Ron and Umbridge with rapt attention, murmuring in agreement with Ron's assertions.

"Who do you expect to need to defend yourself _against_?" Umbridge countered.

"Slytherins, for one; you can never trust those greasy gits," Ron said, causing several murmurs of assent from his classmates.

"Dueling other students is against the rules, Mr. Weasley, as a prefect I expected you to know that," Umbridge squeaked condescendingly, "Or perhaps you've been too busy sneaking into girls' lavatories to pay attention to the rules."

Ron blushed and gritted his teeth as the other students laughed and started whispering about him and what he might be doing in the girls' bathroom. He put his hand down and glared angrily at the pink-fuzzy-sweater-wearing professor.

"Now, if there are no more silly questions," Umbridge said in a falsely sweet tone, giving Ron a meaningful look, "Let us all get back to our reading."

* * *

Once classes were over for the day, the students from his DADA class were still whispering about him and the girls' bathroom, so Ron made quick work of his dinner and, after retrieving his broom from his dorm, headed out to the Quidditch pitch to get in some practice.

As usual, flying managed to calm his nerves and help him collect his thoughts. He thought back to his discovery that morning, of Harry entering the Chamber of Secrets.

_"Now I know where he's disappearing to all the time, but I don't know what he's doing down there. He's a Parselmouth, so maybe he's got something planned for the basilisk."_

Now more than ever, Ron needed to see Dumbledore. It didn't make sense for Harry to want to unleash the basilisk on the school as had been done in Second Year, because if he did, everyone would know he lied about killing it. So, there had to be something else, some other reason The-Boy-Who-Lived would be rattling around in Salazar Slytherin's old stomping grounds.

_"Harry's possessed by Tom Riddle's diary, so there's no telling what he could be capable of. Ginny did so many weird, horrible things when she was possessed…killing Hagrid's roosters, writing messages in blood…picking students for the basilisk to attack."_

Ron shuddered at the idea of his baby sister doing the bidding of the darkest dark wizard the world had ever seen. Luckily, the basilisk had failed to kill any of the students it attacked…including Hermione. He shuddered again at the memory of the bushy-haired girl lying, petrified, in the hospital wing.

_"I don't know what I'd have done if she had died…"_

Ron did his best to wipe that thought from his mind. Hermione was alive and well and if he wanted to ever see her again, he needed to concentrate on the job at hand: dealing with a possessed Harry Potter.

_"Harry destroyed Riddle's diary by stabbing it; all I need to do is find the diary, destroy it, and Harry will be back to normal. But where would the diary be?"_

Ron continued his circuit around the Quidditch pitch, looping past the goal hoops, doing his best to get a feel for what he might be required to do if he got the spot as Keeper. Of course, his mind wasn't really focused on Quidditch, so his flying was a bit sloppy.

_"When we found the diary back home, Harry used to keep it locked in his trunk. Of course, that was before we knew what it was…and before Ginny ransacked his stuff in search of it. If _this_ Harry is keeping it in his trunk, I'd need to sneak into the Slytherin dungeon to find it. Wish I had Harry's invisibility cloak…it would certainly make _that_ job easier."_

Ron decided to put the thoughts of his mission out of his head for a bit and concentrate on practicing. There wasn't much he'd be able to accomplish until he spoke to Dumbledore anyway. Besides, tryouts were tomorrow and if he had any hope of actually making the team, he needed all the practice he could get.

* * *

"Where have you been?!"

Ron made his way through the portrait hole, his broom at his side, and looked up in time to see a disgruntled Hermione rushing towards him. He gave her a confused look as he finished crawling through the hole and stood up.

"Huh?"

"Do you _know_ what tonight is?" Hermione asked as she reached him.

"Yeah…it's Thursday," Ron replied, still not sure what she was so angry about.

"No, it's _our_ turn to patrol the halls," she replied as if he should already know that, "You're a prefect, remember? We should have started our patrol almost ten minutes ago!"

"I know I'm a prefect, Hermione," he grumbled, not liking the way she was talking to him, "No one's gonna care if we start our patrol a bit late. Relax!"

"_I_ care!" she snapped, pushing past him to start making her way out through the portrait hole, "You may not take your responsibilities seriously, but I _do_!"

"Oy!" he yelled, tossing his broom aside and following closely behind her, crawling out into the hallway outside Gryffindor tower, "You have _no idea_ what I do and don't take seriously…what kind of responsibilities I have to shoulder!"

Hermione stopped where she was in the hall, blinking at him, mouth agape. Obviously, she hadn't expected such a vehement comeback from him.

"What sort of responsibilities?" she asked, looking at him curiously.

"Well, besides prefect duties," he replied, "Angelina Johnson is practically _demanding_ my presence at the Quidditch tryouts tomorrow, and she expects me to be _good_ because I'm a Weasley."

"Quidditch," snorted Hermione derisively, turning her back on him and heading down the hall to begin their patrol, "There's more to life than Quidditch."

"Says the girlfriend of a professional Quidditch player," Ron muttered under his breath, moving after her.

"What was that?" she asked, turning to look at him.

"Nothing," he replied, "Nevermind."

"That can't be the only responsibility you meant," Hermione said as they made their way down the seventh floor corridor, "What else?"

"Just forget it, Hermione," Ron replied in aggravation. He knew he couldn't tell her about his _real_ responsibility, so he wanted the subject dropped as soon as possible, "Let's just get this patrol over with."

They went on with their patrol and remained completely silent for well on half-an-hour before Hermione broke the silence.

"So, I couldn't help noticing that you've been avoiding me all day," Hermione said bluntly as they made their way down to the sixth floor.

"Err…well…uh…yeah, I reckon I was," Ron admitted, blushing. He hadn't expected her to call him out like that, "If it makes you feel any better, I was avoiding everybody."

"No; oddly enough, that _doesn't_ make me feel better," she replied, "Do you mind if I ask _why_ you're avoiding everyone?"

"I do mind, yeah," he said, not looking at her, "I'd really rather not have to lie to you."

"What would you need to lie to me about?" she asked, stopping in her tracks, "Does this have anything to do with that comment you made about not living long enough to take the OWLs? If you plan on hurting yourself, it's my duty as a prefect to notify Professor McGonagall."

Ron stopped walking and turned, gawking at her. He quickly played back their conversation from the night before and realized what she was talking about. Once again, Ron Weasley wished he could kick himself for the things he'd said to her.

"I'm not gonna hurt myself," Ron said honestly while trying to come up with a believable explanation for what he'd said, "It's just…err…I had this dream, yeah? And when I told Trelawney about it, she said I'd be dead by Christmas."

"Divination," Hermione snorted derisively, "That class is just a lot of rubbish. And Professor Trelawney…well…she's just a charlatan! 'Broaden your minds; use your inner eye to see the future'…ha! I am so glad I dropped that class."

"I dunno," Ron countered, shrugging, "She must be legitimate enough to have gotten a job here. She's been teaching here for years."

"I can't imagine why," she replied, shaking her head, "Maybe Dumbledore was doing someone a favor and kept her on out of pity."

"Or maybe she's for real, but nobody believes in her because she spends all her time acting like a complete loon," he said, shrugging.

"Please tell me you don't believe in her," Hermione laughed, "I thought only complete twits like Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil believed in that rot! You don't _actually_ believe you'll be dead by Christmas, do you?"

"You have to admit," Ron said, starting to walk again, "A lot of stuff happens around here that could kill a bloke."

"You do land yourself in the hospital wing an awful lot," Hermione admitted, hurrying to catch up with Ron.

"That just goes hand-in-hand with being…" Ron was about to say _'That just goes hand-in-hand with being Harry Potter's best mate",_ but he stopped himself before he said something else that would raise more questions.

"Being what?" Hermione asked, making Ron stiffen up and grimace.

"Err…what?" he tried playing dumb.

"Getting hospitalized goes hand-in-hand with being _what_?" she asked more clearly, looking curiously at him.

"Nothing; nevermind," Ron grumbled, refusing to meet her eyes, "Forget I said anything."

"It's no wonder no one knows what to make of you," Hermione replied softly, looking away from him.

"What?" he stopped in his tracks looking at her.

Hermione stopped as well, but continued to look away from him, gazing out one of the windows into the darkness of the school grounds. "One minute you're being completely horrible…the next minute you're being nice and almost sweet…and then you're being all mysterious. What am I…what are _we_…supposed to think about you?"

"Err…" Ron blushed as he tried to figure out what to say to her, "You have to believe me, Hermione…I don't like keeping things from you. If I could tell you the truth, I would."

"Why?" she asked suddenly, turning on her heels to look him in the eye, as if trying to figure him out by gazing into his very soul, "Why would you tell _me_ the truth instead of, say, Neville? He _is_ your best friend."

"Err…" he had no idea how to respond to her. He was blushing deeply and starting to sweat.

"What makes _me_ so special that you're suddenly coming to my defense and _trying_ to be nice to me?" she asked, stepping up closer to him, "Why did you rescue my cat? Why does Neville keep telling me to give you a chance and to stop holding the past against you?"

"Erm…uh…" he started backing up, as if getting some distance from her would make it easier to come up with a believable answer that didn't reveal everything to her. Within three strides of his long legs, however, his back was against the corridor wall.

She kept moving towards him, her face still seeming to be searching for an answer in his eyes. "What is it, Ron? Tell me."

"B-bloody buggering Hell," Ron gulped as she got within a foot-and-a-half of him. He couldn't tell her the truth…no matter how much he wanted to. He silently began wishing for something…anything…to come along and provide him with a distraction.

He never expected his wish to be answered.

"Well what do we have here?!"

**-- END CHAPTER 12 --**

**

* * *

AUTHOR'S END NOTES:** Yet another cliffhanger ending...I hope no one's out there screaming for my head because of it. :-)

I hope that was worth the six week wait you folks had to endure. I HOPE there will be no more of those extended hiatuses (hiati?) in the future, but no one can ever really tell for sure.

If you feel up to it, let me know what you thought about this chapter.

Whether you review or not, check back in (hopefully) two weeks for the next chapter.

Until then, in the immortal words of New York news anchor Ernie Anastos...**_Keep on f***in' that chicken!_**


	13. Reflection Direction

**AUTHOR'S NOTES:** The number thirteen has a long history of superstitions attached to it. Lots of people think it's bad luck, going so far as to SKIP the thirteenth floor when numbering the floors in a building. The Knights Templar were wiped out on Friday the 13th back in 1307. There were thirteen people at the Last Supper (and we know how that whole situation turned out for Jesus). The only good thing I can think of that is associated with the number thirteen is the term "a baker's dozen". We all know what bakers make...yummy delicious things like pies, pastries, and doughnuts. Thirteen doughnuts in a box doesn't sound bad to me! Mmmm...

Err...right...I had a point before I started thinking about delicious jelly- and cream-filled treats. The number thirteen is bad luck! THIS is the thirteenth chapter of this particular story! So, I'm going to blame the tardiness of this chapter on the number thirteen. I haven't been able to get back into my writing groove since my accident. Sitting for any length of time is still uncomfortable, so it's tough to sit and power through a chapter like I might have done in the past.

Also, I just couldn't get a handle on this one. I re-wrote the entire chapter three times. This was by far the best of the three. Of the other two, one featured a Hermione/Draco/Hagrid love triangle and the other featured McGonagall in a bikini. *shudder* Who would want to read either one of those?!

In any event, and without further ado, here it is...Chapter 13. Read it and (hopefully) enjoy!

**THANKIES:** Lots and lots of thanks to everyone who has reviewed and/or placed this story (or me) on their alerts. I love getting feedback and I answer all your reviews. Special thanks, as always, to my beta-reader, CutewithAcapital-Q for helping me to make my chapters better...and especially for getting back to me quickly! I really appreciate it.

**DISCLAIMER: **JKR owns the lot.

* * *

**_MIRROR, MIRROR  
_Chapter 13  
"Reflection Direction"**

When Ron Weasley began silently wishing for something…anything…to come along and interrupt the awkward and potentially disastrous moment taking place between himself and Hermione Granger, he never actually expected his wish to be granted.

He certainly never would have expected the wish to be fulfilled in the form of the Hogwarts headmaster, himself.

"Professor Dumbledore, sir!" Hermione gasped, taking a step back from Ron, her cheeks coloring to a deep crimson.

"You're finally back!" Ron exclaimed, unable to hide the relief in his voice.

"Indeed I am, Mr. Weasley," the old wizard replied, his blue eyes twinkling behind his half-moon glasses, "I understand – from Professor McGonagall – that you've been rather anxious to speak to me."

"You could say that," Ron said, nodding. He knew he couldn't openly discuss the matter out here in the hall, with Hermione present, but he was on the verge of being _desperate_ to speak to the headmaster.

"Very well, Mr. Weasley," Dumbledore answered, nodding his assent, "Come to my office tomorrow night at seven o'clock; I trust the matter we need to discuss can wait until then?"

"I reckon," Ron said, shrugging. He would have preferred going to Dumbledore's office _immediately_, but if he absolutely _had_ to wait one more day, he could.

"Very well, then," the old wizard said with a smile, "I will bid you good night and allow you to resume your prefect rounds. Ronald…Miss Granger." He nodded to each of them in turn and then proceeded on his way.

"Good night, Professor," Hermione called after the headmaster as he walked down the corridor.

Dumbledore suddenly stopped and turned, a smile on his lips and a twinkle in his eye, "Oh, and Ronald…good luck at the try-outs tomorrow."

"Err…thank you, sir," Ron said, caught off-guard by the professor's well-wishes.

Dumbledore began humming some tune Ron didn't recognize as he resumed his journey down the hallway before turning a corner and disappearing from sight. They watched him go, and once Dumbledore had disappeared from view, Ron turned to face Hermione.

"Let's get back to our patrol, yeah?" he didn't wait for her to respond before he started walking in the direction they'd been heading before their awkward conversation had begun earlier.

Several minutes passed without a single word being spoken between either of them. Hermione was trailing behind him, as Ron's longer legs allowed him to move faster. He didn't bother to slow down for fear of her rehashing their previous conversation. Hermione, however, must have had other plans.

"What do you need to discuss with Professor Dumbledore?" she asked as she started walking faster, trying to catch him up.

"What? Oh…err…nothing," Ron lied, picking up his pace, as if running from the question, even though he knew he couldn't get away from Hermione's curiosity.

"There you go again, being secretive," Hermione huffed, clearly frustrated, "Dumbledore is a very busy man with an important job and monumental responsibilities…he would _not_ just summon you to his office for a chat about _nothing_."

Ron continued walking at a brisk pace, refusing to acknowledge her statement, since he knew she was completely and totally right; it wasn't about _nothing_. Tomorrow's meeting with Dumbledore, in Ron's opinion, was about _everything_. Not that he could tell _her_ that. He just wanted her to drop it. Why couldn't she just _drop it_?

"So, you're back to ignoring me, then?!" she snapped angrily, "You really are a prat, Ronald Weasley!"

"And you're too bloody nosy for your own good!" he snapped back at her, stopping in his tracks and turning to face her as his temper got the better of him…again, "I don't question _you_ about _your_ personal business, so stop bothering _me_ about _mine_!"

"I _knew _this was all just an act," Hermione hissed, glaring at him, "You pretend to be nice to me…pretend that you want to be my friend…but in reality, you're just the same mean, spiteful boy you've always been!"

"And you…you're…you just…ah, bloody buggering Hell!" Ron shouted; not at Hermione, but at the situation he was in. He stepped up and grabbed her shoulders, forcing her to look at him, "Look, Hermione, I'd tell you if I could; believe me, it would make things so much easier if I could tell you."

"Then why don't you just tell me?" she squeaked, looking a bit frightened by the way he grabbed her, "I mean, if it would make things easier…"

Things would be _so_ much easier…so much _better_ with Hermione on his side. But even as that thought flitted across his brain, Ron could hear the words spoken by Dumbledore…_his_ Dumbledore…at last year's Leaving Feast.

_"__Remember, if the time should come when you have to make a choice between what is right and what is easy, remember what happened to a boy who was good, and kind, and brave, because he strayed across the path of Lord Voldemort."_

If he told Hermione, he'd be dragging her into a situation that could very well place her squarely in the path of You-Know-Who. He was there already; the only way out for him was to complete his mission. But Hermione didn't need to be placed in that kind of danger, just to make things easier on _him_.

"I…I can't tell you, Hermione," Ron said, letting go of her and turning away, "Because sometimes, you've gotta do what's right instead of what's easy. This is one of those times."

"So that's it, then?" Hermione asked quietly, "I'm to just go on about my business normally, and act as though you're _not_ keeping some major secret that somehow involves the school's headmaster?"

"Let's just finish this bloody patrol," he said gruffly, ignoring her question and starting off down the hallway again, "Tomorrow is going to be a long day, and the sooner this is over, the better."

The remainder of the patrol was completed in silence. Ron hated himself for treating Hermione that way, but he couldn't tell her what she wanted to know. The more he talked to her, the more he wanted to reveal everything to her; and that was something he could not afford to do.

* * *

Friday dawned grey and cloudy which matched Ron's mood just fine. He was still beating himself up over his treatment of Hermione the night before, and to make matters worse, today he would have to deal with Keeper try-outs after the school-day ended.

The silver lining to the dark cloud that seemed to be hovering over him was that he'd finally get a chance to talk to Dumbledore again; he had much to discuss with the aged wizard. His recent discoveries had Ron convinced that he was very close to completing his mission for Dumbledore and being sent back home.

Once Harry Potter was out from under the spell of Tom Riddle's diary, surely he'd see the light and join up with Dumbledore against He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named. After all, Harry was a hero…even if _this_ world's Harry didn't know it yet.

When it was all said-and-done, Ron hoped, he would be on his way back home. With any luck, he'd be home before the end of the month. He'd be back in time for the first Hogsmeade visit.

As he made his way down from his dorm he saw the flyer stuck to the notice board, reminding everyone about the day's Keeper tryouts; not that he needed reminding. Of course, considering he expected to be home before the Quidditch season even _began_, it didn't make much sense for him to try out for the team.

_"What's the point?"_ he thought, exiting through the portrait hole on his way down to breakfast, _"On the extreme off-chance that I make the team, I'll only be leaving them in the lurch to find a new Keeper once I'm gone. I'd much rather play for my own team back home."_

He had very nearly made up his mind to skip the five o'clock tryouts, when a sobering thought popped into his head: he'd be _here_ during the tryouts on his own world. He'd have to wait an entire year before he got another shot at playing on his house team.

If he tried out _here_ and made the team – despite the odds being stacked against him – at least he would know what it's like to be a Gryffindor Quidditch player. Even if he only got to play part of a season…even if he only got to play one game…it would be better than not playing at all.

As he reached the Great Hall and took his usual spot by himself at the end of the Gryffindor table, Ron made up his mind. Despite everything that was going on, he decided that he _would_ be at the tryouts, and he would do his best to earn a spot on the team. He just hoped his best was good enough.

Ron was so wrapped up in his nervous thoughts about the tryouts that he went through the entire school day in a daze. He was oblivious to the hateful glares of the Slytherins in Potions. He didn't notice the way Professor Umbridge sneered in a falsely perky way at him in Defense Against the Dark Arts. And he had no idea that Hermione hadn't looked his way once the entire day. Before he knew it, the school-day was over and he was slowly trudging toward the Quidditch pitch with his Cleansweep slung over his shoulder.

A fair number of Gryffindors had turned out for the tryout, and Ron felt fairly confident that the chances of him making the team were slim at best. Several students were also sprinkled throughout the bleachers, apparently having nothing better to do with their Friday evening than to watch Angelina Johnson try to find her team a Keeper.

Ron hadn't expected an audience; that just made him even more nervous. Worse still, the rest of the Gryffindor team was there as well…or, rather, most of the team. Fred and George – the team's Beaters – were there, scowling at him, and Angelina's fellow Chasers, Alicia Spinnet and Katie Bell, were present as well. There was no sign, however, of the team's Seeker…What's-His-Name.

"Potential Keepers," Angelina called out, drawing Ron out of his thoughts, "We're going to run through some basic flying drills first, so I can get an idea of your broom-handling ability."

"Or lack thereof," Fred quipped, making George, Katie, and Alicia laugh. This drew an angry glare from Angelina that quelled her team very quickly.

"Once I've put you through your paces," Angelina continued, "You'll each get a turn defending the rings from me and the other Chasers. I'm warning you now…we will _not_ go easy on you."

Ron swallowed nervously. He was absolutely certain he was going to stuff this up.

Angelina blew a whistle and yelled, "Mount your brooms and take off on my signal…go!"

* * *

To say that Ron was the best flyer out there would have been a completely farfetched exaggeration of his abilities. However, even Ron could see, despite his poor view of his own self-worth, that he wasn't the _worst_ flyer, either.

Ron was able to take a bit of a break, though he wasn't able to relax, when the time came for each prospective Keeper to take a turn defending the goal hoops. His nerves kept him on edge as he waited for his turn to come.

In almost no time, it seemed, Angelina Johnson was blowing her whistle and yelling Ron's name, signifying that it was now time for him to mount his broom and demonstrate his Keeper ability.

Each of the Chasers took five shots on the rings and it was all Ron could do to stay on his broom the entire time. He failed to stop the first four Quaffles and only just managed to stop the fifth. Ron had never worked so hard in his life as he did trying to stop the remaining ten Quaffles.

When all was said-and-done, Ron let in eight Quaffles, managing to block seven. He felt as though he might vomit when his turn was finally over and he sat on the bench watching the remaining two potential Keepers try out.

He wasn't the best, but again, he wasn't the worst. A fourth year girl – Vicky Frobisher – had managed to block more shots than he had, but only two more. The second and third year Gryffindors who tried out all blocked fewer Quaffles than Ron, so at least he had _that_ going for him.

Half-an-hour later, the tryouts were over. Judging by the performance of the other prospective players, Ron figured it was probably down to a choice between him, Vicky Frobisher, and some seventh year bloke named Geoffrey Hooper, who had blocked the same amount of goals as Ron but was an overall better flyer. Ron knew there was no way he would be made Keeper.

"I want to thank everyone for trying out," Angelina Johnson said once it was all over, "I'm going to talk things over with the rest of the team and make my decision tonight. I'll post the name of Gryffindor's new Keeper on the common room notice board tomorrow morning."

With that, everyone was dismissed and began making their way back to the castle. Ron was exhausted as well as famished. Now that the ordeal was over and his nerves were gone, his appetite came back with a vengeance. He only hoped dinner was still being served.

"You did really well, Ronald."

Ron looked up to see that Luna Lovegood was now walking beside him with a bright smile on her face.

"Thanks, Luna," he replied sullenly, having made peace with the fact that he just wasn't going to be chosen.

"I'm certain you'll make the team," she said, seemingly oblivious to Ron's melancholy state, "No one else was quite so entertaining when they tried out."

"_Entertaining_?" he asked, looking confused.

"Oh, yes," she said, laughing gaily, "The way you wobbled around and flipped upside-down, acting as though you were going to fall off your broomstick…very funny, Ronald!"

"Yeah, well…" he looked away and scowled. None of that had been intentional; he _had_ almost fallen off his broom…several times.

"When will you find out if you're on the team?" Luna asked as they ascended the steps and passed through the huge double doors into the castle.

"Tomorrow morning," Ron replied, moving through the entrance hall, intent on grabbing something to eat in the Great Hall before his meeting with Dumbledore, "The new Keeper's name will be posted in my common room."

"It's going to be you," Luna said, patting him on the arm, "I just know it."

"Err…thanks, Luna," Ron said, smiling awkwardly.

His smile turned to a scowl, however, when he saw Draco Malfoy swaggering towards them with a smirk on his face and his two goons right behind him.

"Well, well, well, Weaselbee," Malfoy drawled, causing Crabbe and Goyle to already begin chuckling, "Tried out for Keeper, have you?"

"Sod off, Malfoy," Ron growled.

"Calm down, Weasel," Malfoy chuckled, "Everyone in Slytherin is rooting for you to be chosen as Keeper. With you guarding the rings, our team will find it even easier to beat Gryffindor for the Cup this year."

The three Slytherins laughed viciously while Ron stood there, seething. Their laughter was only broken up when Luna spoke up.

"Won't it be difficult for your team to win without a Seeker?" the young Ravenclaw asked, looking at Draco unblinkingly, "Or have you found someone to replace Harry Potter?"

"What?" Ron looked more confused than usual when Luna Lovegood spoke.

"Shut up, you…freak!" Malfoy snapped at Luna, "That's none of your business!"

"Harry's not on the team anymore?" Ron asked Luna, ignoring Malfoy and his two troll-like bodyguards.

"Oh, yes," she replied, nodding, "I overheard Cho Chang telling Roger Davies that she heard Harry Potter quit the team after the first Slytherin practice was announced. She was very excited since she always had trouble playing against Harry Potter…I think, perhaps, she's allergic to people who wear glasses."

"That doesn't matter!" Draco yelled, glaring at Luna before turning his angry look towards Ron, "We could still beat _your_ pathetic team, Weasley, with no Seeker, one Beater, and a blind Chaser! Rest assured, we _will_ beat you!"

Before another word could be spoken, Malfoy turned and stormed off, muttering something to Crabbe and Goyle, prompting the two oafish thugs to nod vigorously as they rushed off towards the dungeons.

"I can't believe Harry quit the team," Ron said incredulously as he watched the Slytherins leave, "He _loves_ Quidditch! This just proves that Harry's been possessed."

"Has he?" Luna asked, looking up at Ron with dreamy eyes, "Was he possessed by a Banded-Bottom Greefsnort? They can be quite difficult to get rid of. My father told me about a tribe of goblins near Brighton who had run afoul of a nest of Greefsnorts…the whole tribe wound up drowning when they all started believing they were actually merpeople and attempted to move to a new village underwater."

"Err…" Ron wasn't really sure what to say. He had no idea what a Banded-Bottom Greefsnort was, if it was even something real. He hadn't meant to say out loud what he was thinking about Harry, especially to this strange girl he seemed to keep running into.

"If there's a Greefsnort about, you really should be careful, Ronald," Luna said, sounding completely serious, "They like to lurk in dark corners. But if you keep your fingers in your ears like this," she said, demonstrating by placing her index fingers in her ears, "They can't sneak into your brain and possess you."

"I'll keep that in mind," Ron said, fighting the urge to smirk at her.

"Good," she nodded, with her fingers still in her ears, "I'm going to see if there's any pudding left now…do you want some?"

"Err…no," he said, shaking his head. The truth was he _did_ want something to eat, but it was very nearly time to meet with Dumbledore and he didn't want to be late. "I…erm…I need to take care of something important."

"Alright then. Remember to watch out for Greefsnorts!"

Without another word, Luna turned and skipped off to the Great Hall, fingers still wedged in her ears, leaving Ron standing in the entrance hall shaking his head.

_"She really is an odd bird,"_ he thought, making sure that he kept his thoughts to himself this time. He watched Luna until she disappeared into the Great Hall and then he turned and made his way towards the marble staircase. He took the steps two at a time as one thought echoed in his mind, _"I really need to talk to Dumbledore."_

* * *

"Enter, Mr. Weasley."

Ron hadn't even knocked on the door to his office before Dumbledore invited him into the room. He walked in, still carrying his broom and dressed in the clothes he wore for the tryouts. He looked around the office, remembering how it had looked at the end of Second Year when he and Harry were summoned to explain what happened in the Chamber of Secrets.

"Have a seat, Mr. Weasley," Dumbledore said with a smile, motioning towards the comfortable-looking chair in front of his desk, "I trust the Keeper tryouts went well?"

"I didn't fall off my broom," Ron said acerbically, sitting in the proffered chair, "So, I suppose _that_ counts as _'going well'_."

"You'll do fine, I'm sure," the old wizard said with a twinkle in his eye.

"If I make the team," Ron replied, frowning, "Which is doubtful."

"Nonsense, Ronald," Dumbledore replied with a knowing smile, "I have a very good feeling about you being made Gryffindor's new Keeper."

"Well, if I make the team," Ron quipped, smirking, "Then, maybe _you_ should teach Divination instead of Professor Trelawney."

"I'm glad to see you're maintaining your sense of humor," Dumbledore chuckled. The old wizard then slid a silver dish towards Ron, "Sherbet lemon?"

Ron had been too nervous and anxious about the tryouts to eat dinner, and his stomach was growling fairly loudly. He grabbed two of the small yellow confections out of the dish and popped them in his mouth, "Thanks."

Dumbledore nodded in acknowledgment before popping one of the candies in his own mouth, "Now, Mr. Weasley, would you like to tell me what you needed to discuss?"

"Okay, well, I've been doing my best to keep an eye on Harry over the last few days; of course, I only have a couple of classes with him," Ron began, leaning forward in his chair as he started recounting his activities during the week, "But, from what I've seen, I think Harry's been possessed by Tom Riddle's diary."

"Are you certain?" Dumbledore asked, looking grave.

"Fairly certain, yeah," Ron nodded, "I remember seeing Riddle's diary come into Harry's possession when you showed me _the_ _other Ron's_ memories. Harry started acting weird after that."

"I see," Dumbledore nodded, steepling his fingers beneath his bearded chin.

"When I saw Harry in class this week," Ron went on, "His eyes flashed red for just a split second. I saw the same thing happen in the memories when Harry first touched the diary. Also, I followed Harry one day after class, and I know for a fact that he's been spending time down in the Chamber of Secrets."

"You followed Mr. Potter into the Chamber of Secrets?" Dumbledore asked, looking concerned.

"No…I was following him at a distance so he wouldn't notice me," Ron explained, "And by the time I reached Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, Harry'd already gone down into the Chamber and the entrance was sealed."

"The entrance to the Chamber of Secrets is in a bathroom?" Dumbledore looked nonplussed, "The castle has been searched countless times over the years, and the Chamber has never been discovered; to think that the entrance has been hiding in someplace as seemingly innocuous as the girls' lavatory is simply astounding."

"I take it Harry didn't tell you where the Chamber was?" Ron asked, "Back when he _supposedly_ killed the basilisk?"

"After his experience down in the Chamber, Mr. Potter claimed the entrance was behind a mirror on the fourth floor and that it had collapsed as he was leaving. I did, however, suspect that he was lying," Dumbledore said, frowning.

"And you didn't think to use Veritaserum on him or something?" Ron asked, shocked that the wizened old headmaster would take a Slytherin at their word.

"We are not in the habit of using such methods on our students, Mr. Weasley," Dumbledore said gravely, "And since the attacks on the students had stopped, it was agreed to let the matter drop."

Ron thought that seemed a bit stupid, ignoring a massive threat somewhere in the castle just because it was _supposedly_ stopped by one of the students. Of course, it wouldn't be the first time. Fifty-odd years ago, when the Chamber had been opened by Tom Riddle, almost the same thing happened. Once Riddle claimed to have stopped the monster, it was all just sort of swept under the rug and ignored.

"Well, I can tell you for certain that the entrance to the Chamber is hidden in the second floor girls' bathroom; the one Moaning Myrtle likes to haunt," Ron reiterated, "There's a sink with a little snake engraved on the tap…you need to speak Parseltongue to get it to open."

"That does make it difficult to enter," Dumbledore nodded.

"Right, well, hopefully we won't _need_ to enter," Ron replied, "If we can just get our hands on Riddle's diary and stab the bloody book, Harry should be freed from Riddle's control."

Dumbledore arched an eyebrow at Ron, and the redhead got the distinct feeling that the old headmaster wasn't telling him something. "It may not be as simple as you think, Mr. Weasley; however, I do believe that you are correct in your assumption that you must destroy the diary of Tom Riddle."

"Right…now I just need to find it," Ron said, wondering what the old wizard might possibly be keeping from him. Ron got up and started pacing back and forth as he spoke, "He'd want to keep the diary someplace safe, so I think he might be keeping it in his dorm."

"A distinct possibility," Dumbledore replied, nodding.

"I'd have to sneak into the Slytherin dungeons to search for it," Ron said, more thinking out loud than actually speaking to the headmaster, "We used Polyjuice Potion to do it back in Second Year, but it takes a month to brew…and Hermione was the only one of us skilled enough at Potions to do it."

"Miss Granger is, indeed, a uniquely talented young witch," Dumbledore said with a smile on his lips and a twinkle in his eye, "Together, you, Mr. Potter, and Miss Granger must make quite the formidable team."

"You don't know the half of it," Ron replied quickly, turning to face Dumbledore and shooting him a meaningful look, "I could really use her brains here…"

"Mr. Weasley…Ronald…you know it is imperative that you keep your mission a secret," Dumbledore said sternly, "Enough people already know the delicate nature of your presence here…there is already a danger of the truth being revealed, thereby placing you in harm's way."

"I'm already in harm's way!" Ron exclaimed hotly, waving his hands about frantically, "You already lost _one_ Ron Weasley, remember?"

"Ronald, please calm down," Dumbledore said, his voice soft and soothing, "Need I remind you that _this_ particular Miss Granger is not the one you know. She may not be as trusting and accepting as the one you're used to."

"She's got no _reason_ to trust me!" Ron shot back, "I keep lying to her, don't I?"

"You are deceiving her for the greater good, Ronald."

"That's bollocks!" Ron shouted, "I'm deceiving her because you told me to keep this whole situation quiet; but that hasn't stopped _you_ from telling everybody you meet about it!"

"Mr. Weasley…"

"Snape knows; Professor McGonagall knows…how many more people know the truth?" Ron snapped, "Meanwhile, I've got to keep pretending I'm someone that I'm _not_; do you have any idea how hard it is to _live a_ _lie_?!"

"I do have some experience, yes," Dumbledore replied, "Now, please take a seat and calm yourself, Ronald. Professors Snape and McGonagall were told of your situation…as were several other key members of the Order…so that we may better protect you while you are here."

"Like Snape gives a troll's nose-hair about my safety," Ron scoffed, dropping back into his chair heavily.

"I trust Professor Snape with my life, Mr. Weasley," Dumbledore said sternly, giving Ron a very serious, no-nonsense look.

"Right, but now you're trusting him with _my_ life!" Ron yelled, "He's been making our lives miserable for years!"

"Professor Snape's trustworthiness is not an issue here, Ronald," the old wizard said, his voice still stern, his blue eyes steely, "And I will broach no more discussion about it. I have revealed the truth of your mission only to those people for whom I felt it absolutely necessary: the Weasleys and select members of the Order of the Phoenix. Your mission here is an important one, Ronald, and I think perhaps you should concentrate on _that_ instead of your relationship with Miss Granger."

"And I'm telling you, Professor, in order to complete my mission I'm going to need help," Ron said, doing his best to calm down, "Hermione is cleverer than anybody I know; she's a bloody genius! She'd figure a way for me to get into the Slytherin dungeon in no time."

"I agree the Miss Granger is, as you say, a bloody genius," Dumbledore said, allowing the faintest hint of a smile to tug at his lips, "But I don't think you will need her help to enter the Slytherin dungeon in search of Tom Riddle's diary."

"Right," Ron nodded, "You can just tell Snape to get it for me, since he's in on the whole thing."

Dumbledore frowned again at Ron's continued lack of respect for the Potions Master, "_Professor_ Snape will be busy teaching classes during the day, Mr. Weasley. No, I'm afraid it will be up to you to retrieve the book. However, I do have something that could be of use to you."

Ron gave the headmaster a questioning look. Of course it would have to be _him_ that retrieved the book. Every risk involved in this mission of his would seem to be his and his alone. Still, the old wizard said he had something that could help.

"What is it, Professor?"

Dumbledore stood up and slowly made his way to an antique-looking cabinet. He tapped his wand on the closed door and with an audible _click_ it opened. The aged wizard retrieved a parcel out of the cabinet, closing and locking the door once more with his wand before returning to his desk.

"Several years ago, I borrowed this from a dear friend of mine," Dumbledore explained, "It has very special properties, you see, and I wanted to study it. Unfortunately, my friend died before I could return it to him. I had planned to pass it on to my friend's son when he was old enough; however, extenuating circumstances led me to hold onto it a bit longer…"

"What is it, Professor?" Ron asked again.

The headmaster passed Ron the parcel and when he took it, he couldn't believe his eyes. The material seemed fluid and was a silvery gray as it lay in glittering folds in Ron's arms.

"Bloody, Hell! It's Harry's invisibility cloak!"

* * *

**AUTHOR'S END NOTES: **Well, there ya' go. Chapter 13 is done. I haven't even begun the next chapter yet, so I'm not going to be cocky and say it'll be out in two weeks like it normally should be. Until I get back into my writing groove, I'm afraid the chapters will come when they come. I apologize in advance for any future delay.


	14. Objects in Mirror are Further

**Author's Notes:** Ugh...considering I posted another story around 4:30 this morning, it's WAY too early (7:20 AM) on a Saturday to be posting. Still, if I do this maybe I can go back to sleep and grab a few more hours of sack time and wak up when the sun isn't just BARELY out of its own bed.

This chapter might seem a bit odd to you folks, as I ended Ch. 13 with something of a cliffhanger...at the very least, it ended mid-scene...and I begin this chapter having completely glossed over the rest of Ron's meeting with Dumbledore. Don't worry, you find out what happened. I just felt I should warn you before someone thinks that I've skipped a chapter or something.

Anyway, I've gotten much too little sleep to come up with a terribly interesting author's note, so I'm just going to shut up and let you read the chapter.

**Thanks: **Before I can shut completely up, I need to thank CutewithAcapital-Q for being my beta. So, there. I did it.

**Disclaimer:** And I still can't shut up cuz I need to tell you the HP stuff ain't mine, it belongs to JKR. There, that's done now, too. So...shutting up...go read, already!

**Chapter 14  
**"**Objects in Mirror are Further than they Appear"**

* * *

MIRROR, MIRROR

Ron could feel his breakfast starting to disagree with him rather vehemently as he waited for the rest of the Gryffindor team to assemble on the Quidditch pitch. He still couldn't believe that _he_ was the one Angelina Johnson had picked to be the new Keeper.

_TWEEEEEEET!!_

The sound of the captain's whistle drew everyone's attention and the team of Gryffindors quickly formed up around the black seventh year girl in a half-circle.

"Alright, listen up! Today's practice will be taking place _without_ our team's Seeker," Angelina angrily informed the team, shooting a murderous glance at the team's Beaters, "Apparently, a couple of ruddy idiots bet McLaggen that he couldn't eat a pound of doxy eggs…needless to say, the dozy twit took the bet. With any luck, he'll be out of the hospital wing in time for our _next_ practice."

Fred and George were unsuccessfully fighting to hold in their laughter as Angelina related the fate of the team's Seeker, Cormac McLaggen, to the rest of them. The captain obviously didn't find it as funny.

"Keep laughing and I'll find a new place for you two to store your Beaters' bats!" she snapped, glaring at the two of them.

The Weasley twins stopped laughing as soon as Angelina made her threat, paling slightly at the implications. Apparently Fred and George thought Angelina might just make good on her threat.

"McLaggen's Seeker skills can wait," Angelina continued, now that the laughter had been silenced, "We really need to concentrate on Ron's Keeping today."

Ron gulped loudly when he was mentioned by name. He needed a lot of work and he knew it. Angelina had said as much when she told him about her choice for Keeper.

_It was nearly ten o'clock when Ron returned to the Gryffindor common room Friday night, with his Cleansweep slung over his shoulder and the newly-acquired invisibility cloak tucked safely inside his robes._

_After leaving Dumbledore's office, Ron gave the invisibility cloak its maiden voyage, using it to sneak down to the kitchens for a late-night snack since he'd missed out on dinner. Sneaking through the castle under the cloak felt familiar…natural; it was something he'd done with Harry and Hermione dozens of times since their first year._

_The journey back to Gryffindor tower felt freeing since he knew no one could see him, and he did something he…and countless other students…had been longing to do since he was a first year: he gave Mrs. Norris a good kick as he spotted the caretaker's cat prowling the halls._

_He had removed the cloak around the corner before approaching the portrait of the Fat Lady and going through the portrait hole; as soon as he entered the common room, Angelina pounced on him._

_"There you are, Weasley," she said in an annoyed voice, "I've been waiting around for you all night! Come with me."_

_She grabbed him by the collar of his robes and pulled him over into a quiet corner of the common room where it was just the two of them. Ron gave her a worried, quizzical look at her strange behavior._

_"Listen, Ron," she said in a voice barely above a whisper, "I wanted to tell you this in person before I post the announcement in the morning. You need a lot of work, but I've picked you to be our new Keeper."_

_"You must be joking," Ron said, unable to believe his ears, "I was rubbish out there!"_

_"I'm not going to lie to you," Angelina sighed, "Vicky Frobisher and Geoffrey Hooper both flew better than you tonight. However, Vicky's involved in all sorts of societies and she said if training clashed with Charms Club, she'd put Charms first; and Hooper's a real whiny tosser who's always moaning about something. Plus, you're a Weasley; I've played with three of your brothers, so I know what sort of potential you've got locked inside that scrawny ginger body of yours."_

_He wasn't Angelina's first choice; he wasn't even her _second_ choice…but he was on the team._

_TWEEEEEEET!!_

The sound of Angelina's whistle blowing once again brought Ron out of his reminiscence of the night before. The rest of the team were mounting their brooms and taking to the air, so Ron quickly followed suit, flying up and taking his position in front of the three golden goal hoops.

Angelina was counting on him…the _team_ was counting on him to become an exceptional Quidditch player like his brothers. As he shakily took his spot in front of the hoops, Ron realized there might be a problem living up to everyone's expectations, since he wasn't exactly _like_ his brothers.

Charlie was so skilled as a Seeker that he had been offered a spot on the English national team during his final year at Hogwarts. Fred and George were so amazing as Beaters, they were sometimes referred to as human Bludgers. But there was a difference between his brothers and Ron.

Shorter and stockier in build, Charlie and the twins took after their mother's side of the family…the Prewetts. Ginny, too, was built like a Prewett, which meant she would probably be a fantastic Quidditch player as well. A part of Ron wondered if his mother might even be better at Quidditch than him.

Tall and skinny, Ron was every bit a Weasley, taking after his father…just like Bill and Percy. Bill, like his father, was a passable Quidditch player, but no all-star like Charlie and the twins. Percy, however, was awkward on a broom and rubbish at Quidditch…not that Percy'd ever given the game much of his time.

Ron knew he wasn't as bad as Percy, but at the same time, he knew he wasn't nearly as good as Charlie, Fred, and George. He just hoped he could pull himself together and play at least halfway decently.

"Ron…head's up!"

Ron was jarred out of his thoughts just in time to see the Quaffle heading for him. The team had been passing the scarlet ball back-and-forth as a warm-up exercise. Ron grabbed the ball out the air and bobbled it several seconds before dropping it.

"Sorry about that! I'll get it," Ron called as he dived towards the ground to watch the Quaffle before it landed. He pulled up from the dive sloppily, causing himself to nearly slip off his broom as he returned to his spot in front of the goals. He threw to ball to Alicia Spinnet as the sounds of laughter caught his attention.

Malfoy and several other Slytherins had taken up residence in the bleachers watching the Gryffindor team practice and as soon as Ron made his first nerves-induced mistake, they were loudly laughing and jeering at him, making him even more nervous.

Ron shot a dark look at the Slytherins as they drew enjoyment from his blunder. He knew they were intentionally having a go at him to make him perform even worse than he might ordinarily do, but just because he knew what they were up to didn't mean it was any less effective."

"Oy! Ron!!"

Ron looked back towards his teammates to once again see the Quaffle hurtling his way. He quickly lunged for the ball and missed it by inches.

"Come on now, Ron; pay attention!" Angelina shouted crossly.

Ron headed for the ground, once again chasing the Quaffle. His face was a deep shade of scarlet, almost a perfect match for the ball he was retrieving. Malfoy and the other Slytherins were howling with laughter as he made his way back up to the hoops.

Ron determinedly set his jaw and refused to let his eyes…or his mind…wander again. He needed to concentrate on the ball-passing drill. A large portion of his job as Keeper was to catch the ball and throw it accurately to one of his team's Chasers, so this drill was practically designed to help make him better.

The third time the Quaffle came his way, Ron caught it handily, breathing a sigh of relief. He smiled broadly and passed the ball enthusiastically to Katie Bell; unfortunately, he passed it _too_ enthusiastically, and the ball went straight through Katie's hands and slammed her hard in the face.

"Shite! Sorry!" Ron called, grimacing at yet another bungle on his part. He flew away from his position in front of the goal rings to see if he'd injured his teammate, but received a quick reprimand from the team's frustrated captain.

"Get back in front of the rings!" Angelina shouted, "And next time you pass the bloody ball don't try to knock the Chasers off their brooms!"

The Slytherins were enjoying the show, stamping their feet and hooting and hollering as Ron made one mistake after another. Ron scowled in their direction, unable to concentrate with them making so much noise.

Katie, meanwhile, was bleeding profusely from her nose, and doing her best to stay on her broom. Seeing the state one of her Chasers was in, Angelina blew her whistle to halt the practice while she flew over and took a look at her friend.

Ron wanted to go over and apologize…to find a way to make up for what he'd accidentally done…but he knew the moment he left the rings, he'd receive another stern talking-to from Angelina and send the Slytherins into another riotous fit of laughter.

Ron watched as Angelina ordered Katie to land her broom and then moments later the bloodied girl was being sent off towards the castle, no doubt making a trip to hospital wing for treatment. George had been ordered to accompany her, since Katie was keeping her head back to try and stop the bleeding and she couldn't see where she was going.

Ron frowned as he saw Angelina take to her broom and fly up in his direction. He knew he was in for it.

"This practice is turning into a disaster," Angelina snapped as she neared Ron, "No Seeker, one Beater, and only two Chasers."

"I'm really sorry," Ron said sincerely, "Is Katie --…"

"She'll be fine," Angelina said, cutting across him, "And don't be sorry…just be _good_. Merlin, are you a Weasley or not? I hope you're better at defending the rings than you are at passing the Quaffle."

Ron blushed as the captain flew off to the center of the pitch. Fred released one of the Bludgers and the two remaining Chasers were preparing to practice shooting goals, which meant it was time for him to do his best to prove that he wasn't a poor choice as the team's new Keeper.

The remainder of his first official practice as a member of the Gryffindor Quidditch team went about as well as it had started. Ron kept getting distracted and drifting off to one side of the hoops or the other, leaving two rings completely undefended. He did a miserable job keeping the Chasers from scoring, and with every goal they scored, Ron's confidence plummeted.

"Look, Ron," Angelina said, once practice was over and the team was changing out of their practice robes in the changing tent, "This was your first practice and I know you were nervous…but you're going to have to learn to pay attention to what's happening in the match and not get distracted by noisy, obnoxious spectators."

"Sorry," Ron sighed, running a hand through his messy hair.

"I told you, don't be sorry," Angelina reminded him.

"Yeah, just be _good_," Ron frowned.

"You're a Weasley…you've got talent; I believe in you," Angelina said, clapping him on the shoulder, "You just haven't tapped into that talent yet. The season doesn't kick off for another month, so you've got time to improve. Just be sure you do."

* * *

With practice over, Ran began the long trek back up to the castle. As he made the lonely journey, Ron spotted Malfoy and his Slytherin cohorts, fresh from haranguing the Gryffindor Quidditch team, going out of their way to harass and disrupt a group of Hufflepuff first years that appeared to be doing their homework out on the grounds.

Ron grimaced as he watched the fifth year Slytherins proudly terrorizing the younger students nearly to the point of tears. In just two days he would be undertaking a quest into the heart of the Slytherin dungeons in search of Tom Riddle's diary. The prospect had him even more nervous than he had been during his two disastrous Quidditch outings.

If not for the recent acquisition of James Potter's invisibility cloak, there was no way Ron would be able to undergo the first part in his plan to remove Harry Potter from You-Know-Who's possession.

His thoughts immediately turned to the previous night's meeting with Professor Dumbledore.

_"What are you still doing with Harry's invisibility cloak?" Ron asked bluntly as he ran the familiar cloth back-and-forth through his fingers, remembering the many times he, Harry, and Hermione had taken refuge beneath it for their various late-night adventures around the school, "You were supposed to've given this to him for Christmas back in First Year."_

_Dumbledore's eyes widened at Ron's comment and his face flashed a sad smile. "That may well have been how events played out on your world, Ronald, but I'm afraid I couldn't, in good conscience, give this to Mr. Potter when I found myself questioning his character."_

_"So you're admitting that Slytherins are no good, yeah?" Ron asked, shooting the headmaster a curious look, "You didn't question his character when he was a Gryffindor."_

_"Keep in mind, Mr. Weasley, that your Mr. Potter is a different person…as is your Dumbledore. We may look alike, but as I've said during our first meeting, things are different on this world," Dumbledore replied, "Your Harry Potter is a hero with a strong desire to do what's right, whereas _this world's_ Harry Potter attempts to avoid conflict."_

_"And whose fault is _that_?!" Ron snapped, "I've seen the memories…I know how _this_ Harry was treated; maybe with a little help --…"_

_"The past is unchangeable, Mr. Weasley," Dumbledore sighed, "I agree that mistakes were made. I am afraid that even I am not infallible. I'm sure that, in time, you will come to find that many people that you have come to revere as great men and women beyond reproach are, in reality, mortal human beings with flaws just like everybody else."_

_"If the past is unchangeable, then why are there Time-Turners?" Ron asked, glossing over Dumbledore's comment about great men with flaws, "Why give Hermione a Time-Turner and then tell her to go back in time with Harry to save Buckbeak and Sirius? Why not use a Time-Turner to go back to First Year and tell Harry, before he gets sorted, to choose _not_ to be in Slytherin…just like he did on _my_ world?"_

_"Firstly," Dumbledore sighed, as if he really didn't relish the turn their conversation had taken, "You must remember: Miss Granger and Mr. Potter made no such rescue attempt _here_. On this world, Hagrid's poor friend Buckbeak was, indeed, destroyed following his unfortunate attack on Mr. Potter, and Sirius Black was exonerated when Peter Pettigrew was brought to justice. While it is safe to speak of such things when we are alone, you must remember to keep those sorts of remembrances to yourself when interacting with others."_

_"I remember; believe me, I remember," Ron said grimly. It was one of the reasons he felt so alone here on this strange world; none of his memories were shared by the people he felt closest to._

_Dumbledore nodded at Ron's reassurance. "Secondly, you must understand: time travel is dangerous. To go back in time as far as you suggested could have disastrous results. Yes, perhaps it would be possible to convince Mr. Potter to ask the Sorting Hat not to place him in Slytherin, but there is no guarantee that events would then play out as they did on your world. Bear in mind that this world has already diverged from the reality you know; each reality is unique. Attempting to force this one to replicate your own could be disastrous. Mr. Potter could still be sorted into a house other than Gryffindor…or, perhaps, if he was a Gryffindor, the two of you would fail to rescue Miss Granger from the troll…one or all of you might have died when trying to save the Philosopher's Stone…young Ginny might have died in the Chamber of Secrets…I could go on…"_

_"Don't bother," Ron replied, frowning, "I get it; changing the past is bad."_

_"To put it simply, yes," Dumbledore agreed, "Now, if we are quite done with this particular topic of discussion, perhaps we could get back to the matter at hand: recovering Tom Riddle's diary."_

_"Right, so, with the cloak I can just sneak in to the Slytherin dungeon and search the fifth year dorm for Harry's stuff. It's bound to be in there somewhere."_

_"And you know how to find the Slytherin dungeon?" Dumbledore asked, giving him a curious look._

_"Yeah, I was there once before," Ron said, "Back in Second Year when we were trying to find out who the heir of Slytherin was. I'll need to know the password, though."_

_"I'm afraid I can't help you with that," Dumbledore said, frowning, "The passwords, as I'm sure you're aware, for the various houses are changed frequently by their prefects. I, myself, have no need of the password…one of the perks of being headmaster."_

_"Well, then, you could get Snape to tell me," Ron retorted impatiently, "He's the bloody head of Slytherin, surely he knows the password."_

_"_Professor_ Snape," the headmaster said, giving Ron a withering look, "Professor Snape will no doubt wish to keep the password to the Slytherin dungeon a secret, in order to maintain his house's safety. But, perhaps there is another way."_

_"What…do you want me to follow a group of Slytherins around until they happen to go back to their dungeon so I can listen in on what the password is?" Ron was being sarcastic; he was growing more than a bit frustrated with Dumbledore and his temper was starting to fray. As a result, he made a biting comment that he thought was completely outside the realm of what the old wizard before him expected. However, the look from Dumbledore, with his twinkling eyes and knowing smile, told Ron that, yes, that was _exactly_ what the headmaster wanted him to do. "Oh, you have _got_ to be kidding me!"_

"Bloody demented old wizard," Ron grumbled as he thought of Dumbledore's 'brilliant' idea for discovering the Slytherin password, "What good is trusting Snape if he won't give up his house's precious password…it's not like it couldn't be changed once I was done with it."

Ron's bitterness towards his professors and his general dislike of the entire lot of Slytherins in the school had him hatching a plot to get a little revenge and teach the dungeon-dwellers a lesson at the same time.

He smirked to himself as he thought about what he'd need for his plan to unfold. He'd definitely need to use the invisibility cloak to aid him in gathering the materials for the plan, since he didn't want anyone within Gryffindor tower to see him sneaking into the seventh year dorm.

With thoughts of his plan bouncing around inside his head and a mischievous grin gracing his lips, Ron quickened his pace towards the castle. He passed the spot where Malfoy and his chums were antagonizing the ickle firsties, and he stopped short. The head boy was there now, and he was deducting points from the entire group of Slytherins and threatening to have Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson stripped of their prefects' badges.

The head boy was a Hufflepuff himself, and he wouldn't stand for the sort of shenanigans the Slytherins were partaking in. Ron smiled; not at the fact that Malfoy was getting a bit of payback for the misery he so enjoyed sowing wherever he went, but at the fact that the head boy was someone Ron would have never expected to see. Cedric Diggory was alive-and-well and had a chance to live up to his potential. He may have lost last year's Triwizard Tournament, but he kept his life, and Ron couldn't help…for just a second…thinking that, for all the bad that this world had to offer, there was some good as well.

Making his way into the castle and up to the Gryffindor common room, Ron managed to keep a smile on his face. His mission down in the Slytherin dungeon was potentially dangerous, but it was also going to be a bit of fun if everything worked according to plan.

* * *

Sitting in the Great Hall, eating supper, Ron was biding his time. He had the invisibility cloak tucked under his robes and he was just waiting for a group of Slytherins to finish their evening meal and make their way back down into the bowels of the castle.

He kept his eyes locked on the Slytherin table, biding his time as he wolfed down his roast beef and Yorkshire pudding. The dessert course came and Ron helped himself to a nice big portion of treacle tart. Any time now, a group of Slytherin students would finish eating and he'd be able to follow them down to their dungeon.

Just as he was finishing the last bite of his treacle tart, sure enough, a large group of Slytherins – first or second years, judging by their size – got up from their place at their house table and noisily made their way out of the Great Hall.

Ron waited for them to leave, not wanting it to look like he was following them, after all. Once he'd allowed the group of Slytherins a reasonable head-start, Ron got up and calmly made his own way out of the Great Hall. Malfoy and his goons shot him a sneering look, but other than that, it didn't seem as though anyone noticed his exit.

Except for Ron, the raucous group of Slytherins was the only ones in the entrance hall; this gave Ron the opportunity to slip behind a statue and don the invisibility cloak without being observed. He then followed the young group of Slytherins as they started down the spiral steps into the dungeons.

In a matter of minutes, Ron and the Slytherins were standing in front of a section of bare, damp stone wall that he recognized from his trip down here three years ago when he was secretly disguised as Vincent Crabbe.

He stood several feet away from the Slytherins, waiting to hear the password. He held his breath as he huddled under the invisibility cloak, not wanting to give away the slightest hint of his presence.

The Slytherins pushed and shoved each other, rough-housing a bit as they stood at the entrance to their common room. Soon enough, though, one of the young and rambunctious Slytherins called out the password, and Ron had to bite his tongue to keep in the angry retort that bubbled up inside him.

"Mudbloods must die!" the young Slytherin said to the blank stone wall.

Within a matter of second, a concealed stone door slid open and the group of rowdy youngsters all piled into their common room. Ron was tempted to follow them in and attempt to find the diary immediately, but he knew it would be too risky. Too many Slytherins would be milling about the common room and dormitory in a matter of minutes, and Ron knew he would need to be able to take his time and search thoroughly for the diary.

Casting one final look at the entrance to the Slytherin common room, Ron retraced his steps up out of the dungeons and made his way up towards Gryffindor tower. He took off the cloak once he reached the seventh floor, and approached the portrait of the Fat Lady, muttering the password and entering the crowded common room.

He saw most of the Gryffindor Quidditch team sitting in a corner having a lively discussion interspersed with laughter resulting from one of the twins' jokes. Even if he wanted to join them, Ron had a pretty good suspicion that he would not be welcome within that group, both due to his dreadful performance at practice earlier and to the twins' obvious hatred of him.

Ron headed for the stairs leading up to the boys' dormitory. He spied Neville, Ginny, and Hermione sitting at a table where Neville and Ginny were playing chess while Hermione leisurely read a thick book. Again, he knew he wouldn't be welcome. He'd burned bridges with Neville and Hermione and Ginny couldn't bear to look at him.

Ron bit back a mournful sigh and started climbing the steps to his dorm. Yes, he was alone. Yes, he was _lonely_. But soon enough he'd have his hands wrapped around Riddle's diary, plunging a knife or some other sharp object into it and Harry would be a normal bloke again and he, Ron, could go home. All he had to do was wait until Monday.

* * *

_"The waiting is the hardest part."_

Ron's brother Bill had said that to him once. Bill had told him that he'd gotten that notion from a Muggle song he'd once heard while working in Egypt with a Muggle-born wizard from America.

At the time, Bill had been talking about waiting for a tray of biscuits their mother was baking to be finished, but as Ron waited for Monday to come, he realized that the adage could really be applied to any situation.

Waiting was the hardest part. With waiting came anxiety and nervousness and second-guessing and doubt that he would be capable of pulling off the delicate task that had been set in front of him.

Following his return from the Slytherin dungeon, Ron had holed up in his dorm, sitting on his bed planning out what he was going to do on Monday. He also managed to keep an eye on the Marauders' Map, and noticed that Harry was absent from the castle until nearly eleven that night when he suddenly appeared in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. Ron had no idea what Harry was doing down in the Chamber of Secrets all the time, but he was confident that his trips down there would stop once the diary was destroyed.

When he awoke Sunday, Ron realized that he'd neglected his homework and despite the nerves that had cropped up as Monday crept slowly closer, he was forced to do his work in order to keep up appearances that he was, indeed, this world's Ron Weasley and not a doppelganger from another universe.

Monday arrived soon enough, and Ron made a point to lag behind his dorm-mates. He'd made a point of oversleeping and taking his time getting ready in the mornings all the previous week, so he thought it would look suspicious if he was suddenly up bright-and-early on a day when he would be missing from class.

Once Neville, Dean, and Seamus had vacated the dorm, Ron got ready. Checking the Marauders' Map, he saw that the seventh year boys' dorm was empty, and more specifically, his brothers were already on their way to the Great Hall for breakfast.

Slipping on the invisibility cloak, Ron left the fifth year dorm and crept up the boys' staircase to the seventh year dormitory where his first objective for the day lay, tucked away in one of the twins' trunks.

Once inside the dorm he headed for Fred's trunk first, and inside he found what he was looking for: dungbombs; dozens upon dozens of dungbombs. Ron grinned a devilish grin worthy of Fred and George themselves; his plan was starting to come together.

Quietly exiting the seventh year dorm and returning to his own, Ron tucked the Marauders' Map into his bag and made his way down into the common room. The room was empty, as he had expected, with everyone no doubt already down in the Great Hall enjoying breakfast.

Ron would have to skip breakfast if he was going to use oversleeping as an alibi. He stomach gave a disgruntled gurgle at the prospect, but Ron just ignored it. Still under the cover of the invisibility cloak, Ron left Gryffindor tower.

When no one appeared to have exited the portrait hole, the Fat Lady began griping about students bothering to open her up and then not having the common courtesy to actually leave the tower. Ron moved as quietly as he could, years of creeping around at night under the invisibility cloak had him well-practiced at sneaking.

Soon enough, Ron was back in the dungeons, standing behind a rather hideous-looking statue of some witch named Hagrella of Hamlin, waiting for the Slytherin dungeon to clear out. Ron studied the Marauders' Map from the concealment of the invisibility cloak. Only about five students remained in the dungeon. Very soon he would be able to start his search.

Fifteen minutes later, the sound of a bell ringing throughout the school could be heard. It was the warning bell, alerting students that first period would begin in five minutes. Ron checked the map again, watching as the names of his fellow fifth year Gryffindors began filing out of the Great Hall and making their way towards History of Magic.

Binns' class seemed to be the most logical one to miss, in Ron's opinion; the boring old ghost wouldn't even realize that he hadn't bothered to show up. He'd have plenty of time to slip into the Slytherin dorm, find the diary, set off some dungbombs, and make his way back out in time for Potions.

The hidden stone door slid open, revealing the Slytherin common room, and the last remaining occupants of the dungeon exited, rushing off to their first period classes. He watched them leave, waiting until the sounds of their footsteps echoing off the damp stone walls had disappeared completely before he left his hiding spot behind the statue.

As he approached the wall that concealed the entrance, Ron felt his stomach churn. He was about to perform the part of this whole mission that he liked least: reciting the Slytherin password. The very thought of saying those words made him sick, and he could only picture Hermione looking disappointed and hurt should she ever hear him say them.

"Mudbloods must die."

The secret door appeared and slid open, revealing the Slytherin common room to Ron. He quickly slipped inside, and found the place looking just as he remembered it. The room was long and low with rough stone walls and ceiling. Round greenish lamps hung from the ceiling on chains. There was a fire crackling in the hearth beneath an elaborately carved mantel. Several high-backed chairs littered the room.

Keeping the cloak on, Ron made his way towards two sets of stairs leading further down into the bowels of Hogwarts. Thanks to the map, he managed to decipher which steps led to the boys' dorms, and quickly descended them until he was outside the fifth year dormitory.

Ron opened the door, keeping his wand at the ready. No one was inside, but he didn't know what to expect from a Slytherin dormitory. Once inside, he was a little surprised to see it was similar to the Gryffindor dormitories, with the exception of the color scheme and lack of windows.

There were six beds in the dorm room, and since he didn't know which one belonged to Harry he started his search at the bed closest to him and worked his way around the room. There was a trunk at the foot of each bed, as he had expected, and after checking the monogram on the trunks he found Harry's after only four tries.

Harry's trunk was locked, but a simple _Alohomora_ spell opened it quick enough. When he opened Harry's trunk Ron was surprised to find nothing inside but clothes. No books, no quills, no parchment, and definitely not Tom Riddle's diary.

Ron immediately began a search of the rest of the room, ransacking it much the way his sister had done Second Year when she was searching for the diary within Harry's belongings back on his world.

He found nothing.

A sinking feeling overcame Ron as he realized that the end of his mission which had seemed so close at hand that he could _feel_ _it_ had now been wrenched from his grasp and he was no closer to going home than he was when he first arrived on this world.

* * *

**Author's End Notes:** Okay, well, there you go. Ron's jaunt into the Slytherin dungeon didn't go as planned, whatever's going to happen now? You'll find out soon, because I'm already more than halfway done with Ch. 15. So, I should have it posted in two weeks. SHOULD!!! That's the operative word here.

Anyway, let me know what you thought of this chapter or of the overall story in general. I'll be waiting!


	15. Reflection of Misdirection

**AUTHOR'S NOTES: **Not sure what sort of cold-bug I came across three weeks ago, but it certanly isn't the COMMON cold. This is some sort of sterroid-juicing Eastern Bloc cold-bug that you might find in some Cold War era movie about biological weapons used against the unsuspecting American populace requiring Chuck Norris to sneak behind the Iron Curtain and fight a bunch of Commies in long coats and fur hats (ever notice how it's ALWAYS winter in the Russia protrayed in the movies?) in order to find the cure. So, yeah, I've got a cold...still. And the damn thing seems resistant to orange juice and chicken soup, so it MUST be some sort of Communist SUPER-BUG.

Anybody else miss the Cold War? Action movies were a lot more interesting when there were two Super Powers on the planet under constant threat of "Mutually Assured Destruction". Now, we got James Bond fighting petty dictators over water rights in, like, Argentina or something and, like, playing a killer game of Texas Hold 'Em (or was it Baccarat?) before sinking part of Venice. Anyway...

I've managed to get quite a bit of work done on this story recently. I'll be sending Ch. 16 off to my beta sometime this weekend and starting on Ch. 17 soon after that. Ch. 18 and 19 are already written, though I do need to tweak them a bit, due to some re-writes that occurred throughout some of the previous chapters. So, it all boils down to several weeks of, hopefully, uninterrupted posting. We'll have to wait and see, though.

For the Americans in the audience, I hope your Thanksgiving was enjoyable...and for te rest of the world, I hope you enjoyed yet another boring Thursday WITHOUT pumpkin pie and giant balloons floating through your country's most famous major city. That's right...GIANT BALLOONS. Garfield, Kermit the Frog...even Underdog! Bet you're sorry for kicking them Pilgrims out now, huh England?! Just kidding...seriously...I hope everyone's Thanksgiving was a good one; I myself was too sick to go to my family's dinner...so I slept most of the day. As much as I like sleeping, it does NOT trump pumpkin pie and Cool Whip.

**THANKS:** Speaking of pie...everyone needs to remind my wonderful beta, CutewithAcapital-Q that she owes me a batch of pie-crust cookies (don't ask)! I expect 'em in time for Christmas! She's a great beta, she is, even if she thinks cake is better than pie. I could do this story without her, but it wouldn't be as much fun for me. So, thanks a ton, Cutie!

**DISCLAIMER:** This stuff belongs to JKR...and now that I said that, she can't sue me...so neener, neener, neener!!!

**D'OH!:** I almost completely forgot! I was super-psyched that this fic has surpassed the 300 review mark as of last chapter! So, thank you SO MUCH to all you great readers who took the time to review for me!

_**

* * *

**_

_**MIRROR, MIRROR  
**_**Chapter 15  
**"**Reflection of Misdirection"**

"It's not there!"

Dumbledore looked up from his desk to the out-of-breath redhead that had just come bursting through the door into his office uninvited. It was obvious by his frantic words and harried expression that Ron Weasley's search did not go as planned.

"Tom Riddle's diary was not in Mr. Potter's dormitory?" the old wizard asked the obvious question, but it was a question that really did not need answering by the crestfallen look on the redhead's face…although Ron decided to answer anyway.

"No," Ron said, shaking his head, "And I searched the bloody place from floor-to-ceiling; I even went through the other Slytherins' stuff as well, but no sign of Riddle's diary anywhere!"

_"I did_ _find_ _a stuffed teddy bear in Goyle's trunk,_" Ron thought, remembering the embarrassing plush toy, _"But that really doesn't help me complete my mission."_

"Calm down, Mr. Weasley, and have a seat," Dumbledore said, motioning towards the comfortable-looking chair in front of his desk. Ron did as he was told and as he got closer to him, the headmaster wrinkled his nose and gave Ron a quizzical look, "What is that _smell_, Mr. Weasley?"

"Oh…err…dungbombs," Ron said sheepishly, blushing to the tips of his ears, "Crabbe had some in his trunk and they went off accidentally during my search."

Ron's ears continued to redden as he told the headmaster a complete and total lie. He hadn't _accidentally_ set of Crabbe's dungbombs; he'd pilfered the dungbombs from his brother Fred and then he'd _deliberately_ set them off in the Slytherin dungeon. He tossed five in Malfoy's trunk, two each in Crabbe and Goyle's, three in the dormitory itself, and then eight more in the Slytherin common room just as he was leaving.

Of course, Dumbledore didn't need to know it was a lie. Ron just hoped the old headmaster didn't somehow read his mind as he'd seemed to be able to do on occasion.

"I see," Dumbledore replied, nodding. He took out his wand and waved it in Ron's direction, eliminating the offensive odor from the air and from Ron's clothes as well. "You should endeavor to be more careful next time, Ronald."

"Right…next time," Ron nodded. Next time he decided to sneak into the Slytherin dungeon and set off dragon-dung-scented stinkbombs, he would have to be more careful so as to not get caught up in cloud of offensive stench.

"Tell me, Ronald," Dumbledore said, drawing Ron out of his thoughts as he turned his attention back to the matter at hand, "If the diary was not in Mr. Potter's dormitory, where do suppose it is?"

"Well, Harry's either got it with him, or he's hidden is someplace else…someplace he thinks is safer than his own dorm," Ron said, stating the obvious. He had a bad feeling of where the diary might be, but if he didn't say it…maybe it wouldn't be true.

"And do you have an idea of the place Mr. Potter might consider safe?" Dumbledore asked in a tone that implied he was leading Ron toward the answer.

Ron sighed. He didn't want to think about the particular spot a possessed Harry might consider safe. The truth was that he didn't want to be faced with the prospect of going _down there_.

"I reckon if Harry really is possessed, then he'd probably think of the Chamber of Secrets as the safest place…especially since he doesn't know that anyone else knows where it is or how to get in."

"That would seem to be a fair assumption, Ronald," Dumbledore agreed, nodding, "But, I must ask…do you feel _prepared_ to enter the Chamber of Secrets?"

"Not particularly; no," Ron replied, frowning, "Especially with the basilisk running loose down there."

"Assuming, of course, Mr. Potter did, indeed, _lie_ when he claimed to have killed the beast," Dumbledore said, steepling his fingers beneath his chin.

"We both _know_ he did," Ron said grimly, "If the attacks stopped, it's only because Harry – possessed or not – was afraid the school would close and he'd be stuck with his Muggle relatives permanently."

"Then you would need to be prepared, should you encounter the basilisk," the old wizard said, his voice just as grim as Ron's, "You would need to find a way around its deadly gaze."

Ron gave the headmaster a mutinous look. "For someone who needs me alive, you sure don't seem to mind sending me into potentially life-threatening situations."

"Ronald…" Dumbledore began, frowning.

"All this business about telling people my secret in order to help keep me safe," Ron said, talking over top of the headmaster, "But I'm still the one being put at risk; just me."

"Ronald, please…" the old wizard tried to interrupt, but Ron wasn't having any of it.

"Snape could've searched Harry's dorm a lot easier than I could," Ron said, intentionally sneering as he mentioned his hated Potions professor's name, "But you still had me do it. Yeah, I was invisible, but that wouldn't have stopped anyone from coming in and catching me."

"Mr. Weasley," Dumbledore spoke sternly, his gaze fierce and his mouth a thin, grim line, "Had Professor Snape been caught searching through his students' personal belongings, it would have raised many questions; questions that might have placed in jeopardy Professor Snape's position within Voldemort's followers. The intelligence that he provides for us as a spy is too important to risk losing."

"And what about all those other Order members who know about me?" Ron asked hotly, his temper taking over for his common sense, "Why not get one of _them_ to help me out? Why do I have to do all this crap _alone_?!"

"Mr. Weasley, you're being unreasonable," Dumbledore said tiredly.

"_Unreasonable?!_" Ron yelled, jumping up out of his chair and slamming his fists down on the headmaster's desk, "You kidnap me from my world to replace the dead bloke you needed to fulfill some bloody prophecy…you tell half the bloody wizarding world who I really am while telling _me_ to keep it a secret from my best friend…you expect me to walk around with a ruddy target on my back while performing one dangerous task after another…_alone_…and _I'm_ the one being unreasonable?!"

"Mr. Weasley, that is quite enough!" Dumbledore said in a voice that would brook no disobedience, "I understand how you're feeling, but I assure you that your secret was revealed only to those Order members for whom I deemed it absolutely essential."

"Like Snape and Professor McGonagall?" Ron replied, folding his arms across his chest.

"Of course," Dumbledore nodded, "They are here to help you, should I ever be unavailable."

"And the Weasleys?" Ron really understood why the Weasleys were told, but he was too angry to be reasonable right now.

"You know that the Weasleys had to be told," Dumbledore said, his eyes flashing with remorse, "They had seen Ronald's body; they knew he was dead. I couldn't very well bring you here and not tell them the truth, knowing that you would encounter the other Weasleys almost immediately."

"Maybe you should have _told them_ not to treat me like I was some bloody Inferius when they saw me!" Ron laughed bitterly, obviously not finding the situation funny, "The way Ginny runs off crying every time I enter a room has people asking questions _you_ don't want answered!"

"The pain of her brother's death is still fresh, Ronald; I'm sure you can understand that," Dumbledore sighed, "However, in time, I believe Ginevra and the rest of the Weasleys will come to accept you as one of their own."

Ron got a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach at what the old wizard had said. His temper started to rise as he got a bad feeling about what the headmaster was implying. "How bloody long do you think I'm going to be here?!"

"Only until your mission is completed," Dumbledore replied matter-of-factly, "Just as we agreed."

"I didn't _agree_!" Ron snapped, leaning forward over the wizard's desk, "You didn't give me a bloody choice! You just snatched me away from my world and brought me _here_, telling me that if I wanted to ever go home again I had to do what you wanted!"

"I believe you're making it sound more sordid than it actually is," Dumbledore said, frowning as he watched Ron rant and rave.

"I don't think I am!" Ron countered, shouting, "You're entrusting my life to people like Mundungus Fletcher – who already cost you _one_ Ron Weasley, I might add – but you tell _me_ I can't place _my_ trust in Hermione!"

Dumbledore sighed, shaking his head. "Ronald, revealing your secret to other students could prove dangerous…for you as well as for those students."

"…" Ron didn't have a response to Dumbledore's words. He didn't want to put Hermione in danger. With You-Know-Who attempting to rise to power, she was already in danger just for being a Muggle-born; he didn't need to stick her directly in the line of fire to boot.

"Ronald, I understand how frustrating this must be for you," Dumbledore said in a soothing voice, "You didn't ask for any of this, and you must feel as though you have the weight of the world on your shoulders. I do apologize for the difficult circumstances you've been thrust into, as well as for the unusual restrictions I've placed on you. They really are for the best."

"So you say," Ron muttered glumly, folding his arms and taking his seat again.

"I know you were disappointed that you failed to locate Tom Riddle's diary this morning, Ronald," Dumbledore went on, ignoring Ron's comment, "You no doubt thought you would be able to return home soon. I am truly sorry. I will do everything in my power to return you to your world as soon as possible. For now, however, I think it best that we concentrate on the matter at hand."

"Right, because the mission is all that matters," Ron said bitterly, before adding mentally, _"At least that's all that matters to _you_."_

"Ronald…" Dumbledore sighed.

"No, I get it, alright?" Ron said, cutting the headmaster off, "I'll do your dirty work…fulfill your bloody prophecy to the best of my ability, but there's something I want first."

"And what might that be, Ronald?" Dumbledore asked, arching an eyebrow curiously at him.

"I've been here a week now, Professor," Ron said, trying to remain calm as he made his demand, "I've been here a week, and I have no idea what's been happening back home since I disappeared. My mum must be going spare; she probably thinks I was kidnapped by Death Eaters or something. Not to mention what Harry and Hermione are going through. I want to know what's going on back home."

"Ronald, I don't think that's a good idea," Dumbledore said, frowning, "Seeing the events that are transpiring on your world would only serve to distract you from your mission here."

Ron crossed his arms and glared at the old wizard. "I don't think you understand, Professor. I didn't _ask_ to be here; I got snatched away from my home and tossed into a situation that I might not live through. With all due respect, Professor…I'm not asking you, I'm telling you; make this happen. I want to see my home, and my family and friends, and I won't be doing any of that barmy suicidal stuff you want – like running off for a jaunty stroll in the Chamber of Secrets – until I do."

"Mr. Weasley, I really do think this is a bad idea," Dumbledore said, furrowing his brow.

"I'm sure you're not used to this level of defiance from your students," Ron replied, "And the truth is, if I was back home and you were _my_ Dumbledore, I wouldn't have the bollocks to talk to you this way. But I'm not home and you're _not_ my Dumbledore and you've just sort of stuck me on a training broom and tossed me onto the pitch to fly with the all-stars; you expect a lot from me, and I don't think it's unfair of me to expect something from you as a sign of good faith."

Dumbledore heaved a great sigh. "I still think this is a remarkably bad idea, Ronald; but I will do what I can. It may take me a few days to prepare a way for you to see into your world…but I will summon you when it is done."

"Good," Ron nodded, "And in the meantime, I'll look into a way to get into the Chamber. Since neither one of us speaks Parseltongue, it's going to be tricky."

Ron was feeling disillusioned as he left Dumbledore's office. The old headmaster seemed to only care about fulfilling the prophecy, leaving Ron feeling like nothing more than a pawn on some unseen chessboard.

Ron knew chess better than he knew almost anything else, and he knew that pawns had to be sacrificed in order for the more valuable pieces to make the moves necessary to win. That was just the nature of the game.

Dumbledore had already let _one_ Ron Weasley be sacrificed in this game, and Ron refused to allow the same thing to happen to him. He'd play the game…he _loved_ chess, after all…but he was done being a pawn. He was going to play the game on his terms now.

His mind traveled back to First Year and the living chessboard beneath the third floor corridor on the right-hand-side. His own words flashed across his mind and he smiled determinedly.

_"I'm going to be a knight."_

* * *

By the time dinner was served in the Great Hall, word had spread throughout the student body about the dungbombs being set off in the Slytherin dungeon. Much to the annoyance of Professor Snape, despite his best efforts to remove the stench, a remnant still lingered behind, no doubt thanks to the amount of dungbombs detonated at one time in such a confined area.

The Slytherins were quickly made the butt of jokes from the other houses, and a rumor spread in hushed whispers that Fred and George Weasley had pulled off the greatest practical joke in Hogwarts history by managing to sneak into another house and set off a prank.

The twins, though originally seeming to be as amusingly surprised as everyone else by news of the prank, did little to quell the rumors that tagged them as the culprits. No one else had stepped forward to claim the credit, and since the notoriety was making them heroes among the other three houses, Fred and George allowed everyone to think that they had, indeed, been the ones behind it.

Ron knew by the way Snape glared at him that _he_ _knew_ Ron was really the one who had set off the dungbombs. However, he also knew that Snape couldn't very well come out and say that. After all, revealing that Ron had sneaked into the Slytherin dungeon would completely undermine the secrecy of Ron's mission…and while Ron didn't think Snape much cared about pulling the rug out from under Ron, he didn't think Snape would _openly_ defy Dumbledore's wishes…even if he, Snape, hated Ron and all the other Gryffindors.

Snape did manage to eke out a bit of justice for his house, however. Since the Weasley twins were willing to take the credit for the prank, Snape didn't seem to have a problem with slapping them with the punishment that went along with the accolades. The twins tried to protest and admit that they hadn't, in fact, pulled the practical joke, but by that time they were already being celebrated throughout the school, so their protests went completely ignored.

Ron felt a tad bit guilty that _his_ prank had nabbed the twins a week's worth of detentions with Snape, but the small part that felt guilty was outweighed by the huge part that was tired of being treated like _he_ was to blame for the situation with their dead brother. As a result, Ron kept quiet about the whole thing.

Of course, keeping quiet wasn't as easy as he'd thought it'd be. Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle had it even worse off than the rest of their fellow Slytherins, since Ron had made a point of setting off dungbombs inside their trunks, amidst their clothing and personal belongings. As a result, even a week later the three fifth year Slytherins still reeked of dragon dung wherever they went. Ron found himself wanting to gloat and take credit for their misery, but he kept it to himself, no matter how tempting it had been.

During the week following his fruitless search of the Slytherin dungeon, Ron began paying closer attention to Harry during the two classes he had with the Slytherins. His hope was to catch sight of Tom Riddle's diary in Harry's possession in order to eliminate the need to journey down into the Chamber of Secrets.

Ron noticed almost immediately that Harry did not carry a schoolbag with him to class. What he was doing for books during class, Ron did not know, but the important fact he took away from this bit of information is that if Harry did have the diary with him, he'd have to have it tucked away inside his robes somewhere.

It made sense that Harry would keep the book as close to himself as possible, if he was, indeed, possessed by Riddle's diary. Ron remembered how Ginny had been inseparable from the diary when she had been under its sway back on his world. No doubt, the diary would want to be close to Harry at all times in order to keep him doing its bidding.

This presented Ron with a new problem. He had hoped that, upon seeing the diary in Harry's schoolbag, he would be able to slip on the invisibility cloak and surreptitiously remove the diary from Harry's bag with no one being the wiser. Invisibility cloak or not, there was no way Ron could just sneak up and frisk Harry, grab the diary, and be off on his merry way without any resistance from Harry.

Ron was going to have to find a way to search Harry without his knowledge. The only idea Ron could come up with that seemed particularly feasible was to hit Harry with a _Stupefy_ spell first and then go through Harry's pockets while he was unconscious.

Of course, attempting to Stun Harry was not something that Ron considered lightly. Even if he could get over the notion of turning his wand on his best friend – even if he _wasn't_ his best friend in _this dimension_ – Ron still had to take into consideration that Harry was being possessed by You-Know-Who.

When Ginny came under the influence of Tom Riddle's diary, she became capable of doing things she couldn't ordinarily do. Besides suddenly having the stomach to kill Hagrid's roosters and write messages on the walls in their blood, Ginny was also somehow able to speak Parseltongue and control the basilisk.

Ron could only imagine what Harry might be capable doing with Tom Riddle pulling his strings, and it occurred to Ron that a simple Stunner might not do the trick. Attempting to Stun Harry only to have it not render him unconscious would be disastrous. Ron didn't feel like facing a Riddle-empowered Harry in a duel; he valued his life too much.

If he had a teacher that he really trusted, Ron would go to them and ask about an advanced version of the Stunning Spell, but he didn't know anyone he could go to. The school's DADA professor would seem the logical person to talk to about such a spell, but he wouldn't have trusted Umbridge even if she wasn't intent on making the teaching of Defense merely a theoretical pursuit without any actual practical training. Theory wouldn't knock Harry unconscious.

There were others he could go to, but Ron wasn't in the mood to trust Dumbledore and his associates in the Order at the moment. He'd undertake the mission to fulfill the prophecy, since that was the only way to get home, but he wasn't going to tell them _how_ he was going to do it. Dumbledore was keeping too many secrets from him, feeding him only bits and pieces of information when he felt necessary, so Ron thought he'd start keeping his own secrets.

He could hear a nagging voice in the back of his head that sounded a lot like Hermione, telling him that he was being childish, keeping secrets from the adults who were trying to help him. He ignored that voice, however. He could see how the Harry he knew could develop a distaste for authority figures, if this was how he was handled when he was forced to deal with You-Know-Who.

There was _one_ person he thought might know enough about spells to help him. _"Hermione would know of an advanced Stunner,"_ Ron thought as he considered his options for learning a spell that a possessed Harry Potter might not be able to counter, _"And if she didn't know a spell like that, she'd find one in some bloody book."_

Ron knew what he had to do, though the very thought of it made him sick to his stomach. He didn't know what he dreaded more, entering the Chamber of Secrets and facing the basilisk or entering the school library to research the spell he needed.

_"I'm glad no one back home can see me,"_ Ron said inwardly as he entered the library after dinner on Friday, _"They'd take the mickey out of me something fierce if they ever saw me _voluntarily_ entering the library!"_

It had taken Ron the better part of the week to work up the nerve to enter the library and start researching more-powerful versions of the Stunning spell. He tried to tell himself that he was too busy doing schoolwork in order to maintain his cover as this world's Ron Weasley, but he knew that was rubbish and there was no use lying to himself. Ron was horrible at research; he always had been. Anytime Hermione had dragged him and Harry into the library for research, he became quickly bored and easily distracted, leaving the lion's share of the research to Hermione. He wished he could do that now.

Dropping his schoolbag onto one of the empty study tables, Ron headed off into the stacks in search of advanced spellbooks. Two hours later, he stomped back over to the table and dropped heavily into the chair. He felt as though he'd searched every bookshelf in the library and hadn't found one book of spells.

There had been books on magical theory, wizarding history, potion-making, divination, and even magical and Muggle Herbology, but nothing that would aid in actually casting spells. There weren't even any copies of course textbooks such as _The Standard Book of Spells_. Either there had been a sudden rush by students interested in learning extra spells in their free-time, or someone had removed the books.

Taking a deep breath and trudging up to the front desk, Ron decided to ask the vulture-like librarian, Madam Pince, about the missing books. Ron cleared his throat a bit too loudly in order to get the librarian's attention and she shot him a narrowed-eyed glare that made his ears red.

"Do you know where all the books of spells have gone?" he asked, forcing his voice into a library-compliant whisper. She continued to glare coldly at him and Ron figured she needed more of a reason to answer, so he lied to her, "I have an essay due for Defense, and I can't find any of the books I need."

Madam Pince looked away from Ron, as if she'd already wasted too much time on him, and returned her attention to the book she'd been reading before answering him.

"All spellbooks have been moved to the Restricted Section as per the request of Professor Umbridge. You'll need a note from a teacher in order to access them," the librarian said in a pinched sort of nasally voice.

"That's bloody mental!" Ron exclaimed, once again talking much too loudly for the library, "How are you supposed to learn magic if someone goes and hides all the spellbooks?"

"Mr. Weasley!" Madam Pince snapped in a harsh, angry whisper, "This is a _library_, and that is quite enough of your shouting! Get out and don't return until you're capable of being quiet!"

Shooting the librarian a dark look and muttering to himself about wasting two perfectly good hours of a perfectly good Friday in the stupid library, Ron swung his schoolbag onto his shoulder and left, knowing, even as he did, that he would have to sneak back in later after closing, using the invisibility cloak to conceal himself as he stole his way into the Restricted Section.

He hurried up to Gryffindor tower in the hopes of relaxing a bit before embarking on his late night excursion sneaking around the castle after hours. The prospect of stunning Harry to find the diary, and if that didn't work, going down into the Chamber of Secrets, had him feeling tense and anxious. He needed to get out of his school uniform and find some way to kick back and forget everything that was hanging over his head like some executioner's axe waiting to fall.

Relaxation didn't seem to be in the cards for Ron, however, as he climbed the boys' staircase to the fifth year dorm; instead of the room being empty as Ron had hoped, Neville was there, sitting cross-legged on his bed, thumbing through an owl-order catalogue.

Ron cursed under his breath when he saw Neville sitting there. They'd been doing a pretty fair job of avoiding each other since the day Ron found out that Neville wanted to date Ginny. He still found it hard to comprehend – Neville and Ginny – but, then, he didn't really think of his sister as anything other than a young girl…too young for boys.

Neville looked up at the sound of the dormitory door opening, and a look of fear crossed his face as he laid eyes on Ron. Obviously, neither boy wanted to be confronted with the other.

"I'll just be going, then," Neville said shakily, slipping off his bed and preparing to hurry out the door. He clumsily dropped the catalogue he was holding on the floor, but he didn't seem to want to spend the time it would take to bend down and pick it up as he tried to make his quick escape from the dormitory.

Ron sighed as he realized what he needed to do. He was never very good at this sort of thing; with Harry and Hermione, he just waited for whatever disaster was coming down the pike to heal any rifts in their relationship. However, since there didn't seem to be any hippogriff executions or battles with dragons in the offing, Ron had to do it on his own.

"Neville, wait," Ron said, putting a hand up to stop the other boy from scarpering off, "This is your dorm, too; you don't need to run off."

"I figured you'd want to be alone," Neville replied quietly, looking anywhere but at Ron, "You seem to prefer being by yourself these days."

"Fair point," Ron chuckled, trying to break the tension, "I know I've been acting…strange…lately."

"Try completely mental," Neville said, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips, though he still avoided looking at Ron.

"I wouldn't say _completely_ mental," Ron sighed, running his fingers through his hair and loosening his tie, "But, yeah, things have been weird for me ever since I got here. I haven't really been feeling like myself."

"You're not trying to blame the way you've been acting on the flu you had two weeks ago, are you?" Neville asked, looking at him finally with narrowed eyes, "Because that's a little hard to believe."

Ron sighed again. "Look, Neville, we're mates, right? We can be blokes about this, can't we? Sweep it under the rug…bury the hatchet…without having to hash out our feelings like a couple'a birds?"

"So, you just want to pretend the last two weeks didn't happen?" Neville asked, looking almost hopeful, "And just go back to normal?"

"Normal would be a welcome change," Ron replied sardonically, "Whaddya say?"

"There's just one thing, though," Neville said, looking down at his shoes.

"What's that?" Ron asked, hoping that, soon, the tension between them would be resolved.

"You don't like the idea of me dating your sister," Neville said flatly.

"Merlin, Nev," Ron exclaimed, exasperated, "I don't like the idea of _anyone_ dating Ginny; it's not just you! Bloody Hell…this is not what I wanted to do, Neville. All I want is for this tension between us to stop."

"I'd like that, too," Neville said, looking up at him, "But I also want to be able to see Ginny. I really like her, Ron. She's great, and --…"

"Neville, stop," Ron said, cutting across him, "I don't need to hear about my sister."

Neville grew quiet and looked back down at his feet bashfully. Ron sighed, feeling guilty. He felt protective of Ginny, but it wasn't his place; not here.

"Look, Nev…I told you before…treat Ginny right and I'll have no problems with you," Ron said, moving away from Neville and dropping down onto his own bed, tossing his tie onto his trunk and pulling off his jumper, "I can't say what any of the _other_ Weasleys will do, but I'm not going to bother you about it."

"Really?!" Neville exclaimed happily, "Cheers, Ron!"

Ron shook his head, fighting the urge to chuckle at Neville's exuberance, and just like that the tension between them, which had been stretching out between them for nearly two weeks, was gone.

Smiling brightly, Neville moved over to his bed, next to Ron's, and dropped down onto it. It was obvious from the look on the round-faced boy's face that he was thrilled at the cessation of tension between himself and the person he thought was his best friend.

"Do you reckon Ginny would want to go to Hogsmeade with me?" Neville asked, "The first weekend is only about two weeks away."

Ron may have, essentially, given Neville his blessing to date Ginny, but that didn't mean he wanted to discuss it with him. Intending to change the subject and avoid an uncomfortable conversation, Ron reached down and picked up the owl-order catalogue that Neville had dropped while attempting to make a hasty retreat from the dorm.

"What's this, then, Nev?" Ron asked, thumbing through the catalogue.

"Oh!" Neville exclaimed as though he'd completely forgotten what he'd been doing prior to Ron's arrival, "Hermione's birthday is next week and I was trying to decide what to get her. I was thinking a book on the different magical plant species of Britain, since she likes books so much."

Ron bit back a derisive snort at Neville's proposed gift. "Isn't that more along the lines of what _you'd_ like, Neville?"

"Well…what about a nice quill set, then?" Neville suggested, his face falling slightly as Ron shot down his first idea, "I saw a set of eagle-feather quills that looked really nice. She'd like that, yeah?"

Ron gave a noncommittal shrug as he continued to thumb through the catalogue. He wasn't really sure what sort of advice he should give Neville. In the past, books and candy were the main gifts he'd given Hermione, and he would have suggested the same for Neville. However, ever since the Yule Ball when he was forced to realize that he would have competition for Hermione's attention, Ron knew that a more heartfelt and sentimental gift would have to be the way of things from then on.

He'd already bought Hermione's birthday present months ago, but it was tucked in the bottom of his trunk, back home on his own world, and he didn't know if he'd ever get the chance to give it to her. He absentmindedly thumbed through the catalogue as his mind wandered to _his_ Hermione back home and how he wished he could be there to celebrate her birthday with her.

Ron's eyes widened as he found himself looking down at the catalogue, at a picture of the gift he'd bought Hermione. He couldn't help but stare as an anxious tingle ran up-and-down his spine.

"Ron…hey, Ron!"

Ron looked up slowly from the catalogue to see Neville looking at him with a concerned expression on his face.

"You say something, Nev?" Ron asked numbly.

"You alright, mate?" Neville asked, "You seemed to kind of zone out."

"Yeah…no, I'm fine," Ron said, nodding, "I'm sure whatever you decide to get Hermione will be fine. I mean, you know her better than I do, right?"

"That's true," Neville said, smiling.

Before another word could be spoken between the two boys, the dormitory door opened up and Seamus Finnegan popped his head into the room.

"Oy, Weasley!" the Irish boy called to get the redhead's attention, "Granger's downstairs and she wants you. I don't know what you did, but she doesn't look happy."

Ron rolled his eyes and got to his feet. "What now?"

Leaving the dorm, Ron hadn't even reached the bottom of the boys' staircase when Hermione was in his face, looking furious with him.

"What is wrong with you?!" Hermione asked angrily, "We're late _again_!!"

"Bloody Hell, woman, late for _what_?" Ron exclaimed, confused as to what he had done to anger her this time.

"We're late for prefect patrol again!" Hermione shouted, glaring at him.

"But it's Friday," Ron replied, "We patrol on Thursday."

"We patrolled on Thursday _last week_," Hermione explained hotly, "The schedule changes each week. You'd know that if you ever bothered to --…wait a tick…if you thought we had to patrol last night, then you tried to make me do it on my own!"

Ron blushed and looked down at his shoes. The truth was he had avoided the common room until he was sure Hermione would be out on patrol because he didn't want to be alone with her. Things had gotten very awkward and uncomfortable the last time they patrolled, and he had almost revealed his secret to her.

"I cannot believe you!" she shouted, "You are so irresponsible! Why you were picked to be a prefect, I will _never_ know! Neville would have been a _much better_ choice than you. Dean Thomas…Seamus Finnegan…_anyone_ would be a better prefect than you!"

Ron snapped his head up, glaring at her. He was immediately transported back to Grimauld Place over the summer when he'd received his prefect badge and everyone expected Harry to have gotten it. No one believed Ron deserved it. The same was true here, obviously, at least as far as Hermione was concerned. Turning on his heel, Ron stormed over to the portrait hole and began crawling through it.

"And just _where_ do you think you're going?!" Hermione snapped, stomping her foot as he turned his back on her.

"Patrol," Ron spat over his shoulder, "You coming or not?"

* * *

Two hours had passed in silence, and Ron and Hermione had just finished their patrol of the sixth floor and were heading back to the stairs to climb to the seventh floor and complete their patrol when they heard voices coming from the direction of the main staircase.

Hermione took off towards the voices, leaving Ron behind. He rolled his eyes at her obvious excitement at catching someone out after curfew. He followed behind her, as she rushed off towards the rule-breakers, glad for something to break up the monotony of their completely silent patrol. He hadn't quite reached the staircase when he heard Hermione confront whoever it was violating curfew.

"What are you doing out this late?" he heard Hermione ask in her best authoritative voice, "You know you're not allowed."

"We had detention with Snape, ickle prefect," said a voice that Ron was infinitely familiar with. He groaned inwardly and quickened his pace.

"And our dear Potions master doesn't seem to care whether or not we're past curfew so long as we've cleaned the bat guts out of all the cauldrons…without magic," an identical voice added a moment later.

Ron reached the sixth floor landing and found Fred and George, both of whom were covered in various forms of foul-smelling muck, looking angrily at Hermione as she stood with her hands on her hips in a self-righteous pose.

"It serves you right, getting detention," Hermione replied pompously, "Sneaking into another house's common room is bad enough, but vandalizing the place while you're there…that's just stupid! You're lucky you didn't cost us any house points!"

"Well, I'm sure you'll take care of that, won't you, Granger?" Fred snapped, "You've been dying to dock us points since you became a prefect."

"You've caught us out after hours," George added, looking at her prefect's badge with disgust, "Now's your chance, Perfect Prefect."

"You deserve to lose house points!" Hermione snapped, stomping her foot for emphasis, "Sneaking around, playing pranks on people, always up to some sort of mischief – it was only a matter of time before you got caught!"

"Maybe if you knew how to have fun, Granger, you wouldn't be dead-set against _other people_ having fun," Fred sniped.

"I _know_ how to have fun!" Hermione shouted.

"What's the last thing you did that was fun?" George asked, grinning mockingly.

"Earlier tonight," Hermione replied haughtily, "I was reading an enjoyable book on the life and times of Hengist of Woodcroft who founded Hogsmeade."

"That sounds like loads of fun, eh George?" Fred laughed.

"Quite right, Fred," George replied, "Scads and scads of fun!"

"Oh, and I suppose running around playing pranks on people makes you the masters of fun?" Hermione shot back.

"We don't just play pranks…" Fred began.

"We also play Quidditch!" George finished with a grin.

"Quidditch?" Hermione snorted derisively, "Quidditch is stupid! It's a waste of time that divides people instead of bringing them together!"

Ron's presence on the landing had gone largely unnoticed while Hermione and the twins argued. He really didn't want to get involved, considering the bad terms he was on with the lot of them. Of course, what Ron wanted and what he got were almost always two different things.

He knew he should have just stayed out of it, but Hermione's comment got the better of him, and before he even knew he was doing it, he'd opened his mouth and put his foot in it.

"Don't let your boyfriend hear you say that."

Hermione jumped at the sound of Ron's voice as if she'd forgotten about him being behind her. The twins narrowed their eyes at him, seeming to have finally just noticed him standing there.

"What did you say?" Hermione asked, turning to face Ron. Her cheeks were red and she looked embarrassed.

"Your boyfriend makes his living playing Quidditch," Ron continued angrily, "He might feel a bit put-out if he knew you thought it was a stupid waste of time."

"Why are you even bringing Viktor into this? This has nothing to do with him," she said, her voice sounding as if she were on the verge of tears, "You're a prefect; you should be backing me up, not ganging up on me with _them_! Your brothers have broken the rules!"

"Give it a rest, Hermione," Ron grumbled.

"_Give it a rest_? I will _not_ give it a rest, Ronald Weasley!" Hermione shouted, "We're _prefects_; we're supposed to present a united front when dealing with rule-breakers, and you're undermining me just because they're your brothers!"

"I'm undermining you because you're being ridiculous!" Ron shouted back, unable to resist yelling at her when she was yelling at him, "You're blaming them for being out after curfew; that's not _their_ fault…it's Snape's!"

"It's _their fault_ they have detention!" Hermione continued, "If they didn't play some stupid practical joke, they wouldn't have gotten detention and they wouldn't be out after hours! Clearly this _is_ all their fault, and if losing house points on top of detention helps them to learn their lesson, then _good_!"

"And what lesson is that, Hermione?" Ron asked acidly, "Having fun is bad?"

"No, you idiot," she spat, "Having fun is not bad, but sneaking into another house and setting off dungbombs – which are _contraband_, by the way – _is_ bad! They violated at least _ten school rules_!"

Ron snorted in response to her diatribe, folding his arms across his chest and smirking at her. No matter what universe he was in, Hermione Granger would _always_ be a stickler for following the rules.

"I don't even know why I'm wasting my breath with you!" Hermione snapped, turning away when his only response was a derisive snort, "You're just like everyone else who thought it was a _brilliant_ prank! What an idiot!"

"Of course I thought it was brilliant," Ron snapped, losing all control of his temper after being called an idiot for the second time, "That's why I did it in the first place!"

Ron's eyes widened in shock as, a split-second too late, he realized what he was saying. He wasn't the only one shocked, however. Hermione turned back to face him and she looked as though someone had just proved, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that "two-plus-two" equals "chair". Fred and George, whose presence had been largely forgotten by Ron and Hermione during their row, kept switching between trading dumbfounded glances back-and-forth and gaping at Ron as though he had two heads.

"_You_ did it?" Hermione squeaked once she had managed to find her voice, "How did you…?"

"Err…" Ron looked away. He'd already said too much, and he didn't want to reveal anything else.

"I'm going to report you," Hermione said coldly, glaring at him when it became obvious that he wasn't going to answer her, "I'll report you to Professor McGonagall and she'll tell Professor Snape. It should be _you_ in detention!"

"Save your breath," Ron chuckled, "Snape already knows it was me; so does Dumbledore, come to that."

"What?!" Hermione gasped in disbelief, "If they knew the truth, then why would Snape give detention to your brothers?"

"Who knows what goes through that greasy head of his?" Ron quipped, shrugging, "He probably did it because those two prats took the credit for it."

"You cheeky bastard!" Fred exclaimed as he finally seemed to regain the power of speech, "You pull prank of the decade…"

"Century!" George interjected.

"Millennium!" Fred amended.

"Of all time!" George said, garnering a node of agreement from his twin.

"And you let _us_ take the fall for it?" Fred continued, still looking beside himself with awe, "That's…that's…"

"Inexcusable!" Hermione exclaimed, glaring at Ron with a mixture of anger and disappointment.

"BRILLIANT!!" Fred and George proclaimed in unison, their faces twin masks of amused delight.

"Ugh!" Hermione groaned, throwing up her hands in defeat, "I will never understand boys in a million years!"

Without another word, Hermione huffed at Ron and then stomped up the stairs. He watched her go, thinking he should probably chase after her, since they still needed to patrol the seventh floor. Ron had just taken a step to go after her when he was grabbed by two pairs of hands and held in place.

"You're not going anywhere," Fred said.

"We're not done with you, yet," George added.

Ron got a sinking sensation in his stomach as he turned to face the twins.

**-- END CHAPTER 15 -- **

**

* * *

AUTHOR'S END NOTES: **Looks like Ron's got some 'splainin' to do (God bless Ricky Ricardo!). I hope everybody enjoyed this chapter. Feel free to let me know what you thought. Look for Chapter 16 in two weeks! Until then...keep your feet on the ground and keep reachin' for the stars (and while you're at it, God bless Casey Kasem!)!

~Hawk~


	16. Comparative Reflections

**AUTHOR'S NOTES: **So, here we are, one week before Christmas and we're expecting a major snowstorm this weekend. Seems like a good time to curl up with a nice mug of hot chocolate and enjo some fanfiction, yeah? Heh...I almost FORGOT that this was my scheduled posting week! In my defense, I've been writing my arse off; I'm currently in the midst of re-writing Chapter 19 (I did have Chapters 19 and 20 written already, but upon review, they needed a major overhaul and will be combined into one chapter, the re-written version of Chapter 19 which I am currently working on). So, since I've been so busy writing, trying to get ahead and stay ahead, the date of my next scheduled post slipped my mind...for a bit. But, here I am, posting, so no worries!

Since I won't be posting again until aftr Christmas, I want to take this opportunity to wish all of my readers (especially those among you who conside yourself my fans) a very Merry Christmas! And if you don't celebrate Christmas...well...then a very [insert appropriate adjective here] [insert name of your particular holiday here] to you all!

**THANKS: **Thanks, as always, to CutewithAcapital-Q for her hard work and dedication as my beta. I know it's frustrating sometimes, especially when I end on a cliffhanger, but I'm really glad to have you around, Cutie! AND a very warm thank you to everyone who has ever posted a review for my story and for any and all of you who have put me or my story on alert.

**DISCLAIMER: **This is all JKR's.

_**

* * *

**_**Chapter 16  
**"**Comparative Reflections"**

MIRROR, MIRROR

As the sounds of Hermione's footsteps disappeared up the staircase, Ron found himself unceremoniously shoved up against the wall of the sixth floor landing while his twin captors began whispering animatedly amongst themselves. He had no idea what Fred and George were up to. He'd just admitted to being the reason for them having a week's worth of detention with Snape, and he doubted that they would be grateful for the opportunity.

Ron began inching his hand towards his back pocket where his wand was stashed, just in case they decided to do something he'd need to defend himself against. Before he could reach his wand, however, the twins turned their attention back to him with unreadable expressions on their identical faces.

"You were the one who stole the dungbombs out of my trunk, weren't you?" Fred asked, folding his arms across his chest.

Ron nodded. "I didn't think you'd miss ten or twenty, since you had about a hundred of them."

"I didn't think ickle prefects were allowed to steal from other students," George replied, folding his arms just as Fred had done.

"Considering the use I put them to," Ron shot back, folding his own arms, so now all three Weasleys stood in confrontational poses, "I'd think the two of you would be glad to've contributed."

"Maybe if we'd been _in_ on the prank in the first place," Fred said acidly, narrowing his eyes at Ron, "But instead all we got is the blame…and a week's detention with Snape!"

"You also got the fame," Ron countered, "Everyone thinks it was you two who did it, so now three-quarters of the school think of you as heroes."

"He's got a point, Fred," George said with a smile, allowing his arms to fall to his sides, "They worship us even more than before!"

"That's _beside_ the point," Fred grumbled.

"Then what _is_ the point?" Ron asked, resolutely setting his jaw in preparation for Fred's next point.

"I don't like the idea of being out-pranked…especially by _you_," Fred said, glowering at Ron.

"We're back on this again?" Ron sighed, rolling his eyes, "I get it…you hate me."

"If you get it, then why are you still here?" Fred asked bitterly, "We gave you the map so you could finish your little mission and go. So, _go_ already!"

"It's not that simple…I wish it was," Ron said, "But it's going to take a little while longer."

Fred snorted derisively. Ron narrowed his eyes angrily.

"You think I _like_ being here?!" Ron snapped, advancing on Fred menacingly, "Let's not forget that I was _kidnapped_ from _my home_ and brought here without so much as a warning! I get here only to learn that my two best friends actually _hate me_ here, and that I have to pretend to be your dead brother because Dumbledore didn't manage to keep him alive! And if that wasn't bad enough, I've got Ginny running off whenever I enter a room, you two treating me like I'm doing this _for fun_, and to top it all off, I've got a bloody secret mission that I'm not allowed to talk about that has the potential to kill me about a hundred different ways!"

"If you can't talk about it," George said, "Then why are you?"

"Shut up, George!" Ron and Fred shouted in unison.

"I didn't _ask_ to be here!" Ron continued, "You think I _like_ bringing pain to your family? It's my family, too, you idiot! Whether I'm from here or not, I'm still a bloody Weasley! Put yourself in my shoes for a second, Fred; what if you were the one being _forced_ to impersonate a dead version of yourself? Because that what this is, Fred…I'm being forced. I don't have a choice! I only get to go home when I've completed my mission to Dumbledore's satisfaction; until then, I'm a prisoner here."

The twins looked stunned at Ron's outburst; shocked disbelief painted their usually amused dispositions.

"Dumbledore wouldn't do that, would he?" George asked, looking to his brother.

Fred shrugged. "I don't think so, George. Dumbledore's the greatest wizard since Merlin."

"Believe what you want," Ron said, turning his back to them and making his way up the steps, "But keep this in mind: he knew your brother was in danger…that _he_ would be the one needed to perform the mission I now have to perform…and he let _Mundungus Fletcher_ guard him."

Without another word or bothering to look back, Ron climbed the steps to the seventh floor, making his way to the portrait of the Fat Lady and the Gryffindor common room beyond. He quickly ascended the boys' staircase to his dorm, not wanting to be in the common room when the twins or Hermione came back.

Neville, Seamus, and Dean were already asleep, so Ron made a point of being as quiet as he could. He didn't want to wake them before he went sneaking off to the library to explore the Restricted Section. After checking the Marauders' Map to see that the common room was empty and the Fred, George, and Hermione were in their respective dorms, Ron slipped on the invisibility cloak to begin his late-night journey.

* * *

Ron's invisible trek down to the library was an uneventful one, and soon enough he was safely inside the Restricted Section, browsing through the rack of spellbooks by the light on the tip of his wand.

He passed over several titles that he recognized from last year, when he and Hermione were helping Harry look for something to help him in the second task of the Triwizard Tournament. Nothing they had found in those books could help Ron with the task that he had laid before him.

Ron settled on _Basic Hexes for the Busy and Vexed_, _Jinxes and the Jinxed_, and _Where There's a Wand There's a Way_ to begin his research. Three hours and more than a dozen books later, Ron had finally found a spell that looked promising.

The book was old and dusty and the cover was cracked and faded to the point where the title was completely unreadable. Inside its yellowed, brittle pages, however, Ron found a spell that had been regularly used to protect villages from large-scale magical creatures back in an age when dragons, giants, and trolls more freely roamed the land.

According to the book, the spell was invented by a wizard named Marelinius Magnum in the eighth century. He made his home in the village of Ort in Northumbria; a village that was routinely overrun by a tribe of giants and one particularly tenacious dragon. After seeing it take several wizards working simultaneously to subdue these large creatures with standard Stunning spells, Magnum invented a much more powerful spell that could lay out a giant or a dragon with only one wizard needed. The book went on to note that Magnum successfully employed the spell against the dragon, rendering the beast unconscious, but Magnum died of a broken neck during the encounter.

Ron copied down the spell's information on a blank sheet of parchment, figuring that Magnum's Stunner was his best bet against a Riddle-possessed Harry. If it could take down a dragon, it could surely take out Harry…no matter _who_ possessed him.

With the information on the spell tucked safely in his pocket, Ron used the invisibility cloak and Marauders' Map to make his journey back to Gryffindor tower quick and relatively painless. The only problem he ran into was when he had to awaken the sleeping Fat Lady in order to gain entrance to the common room and she scolded him at length for being out well past curfew.

When he finally made it into the common room, it was well after two in the morning. Ron had expected the room to be empty, but instead he found Hermione sitting there. He thought she had gone to bed hours ago, but he was obviously mistaken.

He couldn't help but smile at the scene before him: Hermione was asleep at a study table with her face in her Arithmancy book. The rest of her books were spread around the table and Crookshanks sat by her head, batting playfully at Hermione's crazy, tangled nest of hair. It filled him with warmth as Ron was so completely reminded of home.

Quietly taking a seat at the table, Ron reached over and gave Crookshanks a nice long scratch behind the ears. The fat ginger cat purred contentedly in response, rubbing himself briskly against Ron's hand and forearm, causing him to chuckle lightly.

Ron surveyed the mess of books spread out across the table; all of Hermione's course textbooks were present as well as a few books Ron had never seen before. A small book, about the size of a Muggle paperback, drew Ron's attention because of its title: _OWL Revision and You (How to Squeeze Even More Study Time into an Already Busy Day)_.

Ron clucked his tongue at the book, shaking his head as he wondered if staying up until the wee hours of the morning studying instead of getting a good night's sleep was one of the techniques suggested in the book.

"Hermione," Ron called softly, lightly shaking her shoulder, "It's time to go to bed."

Hermione stirred a bit and mumbled something unintelligible, but didn't wake. Ron persisted, however, and after a couple of minutes of shaking her and calling her name, Hermione finally woke up.

"What are _you_ doing here?" Hermione asked crankily, rubbing the sleep from her eyes as she took in her surroundings, "How long have I been asleep?"

"I dunno," Ron said, shrugging as he got to his feet, "I've only been here a few minutes, and you were already asleep when I came in."

"_Came in_? Where were you?" she asked, eyeing him suspiciously, "It's after two! Don't tell me you were out sneaking around the castle again!"

"I had something to take care of," he replied, moving towards the boys' staircase.

"Let me guess," Hermione said darkly, getting to her feet and adopting a confrontational stance, "You were out playing more _stupid_ practical jokes!"

Ron rolled his eyes and sighed. He knew his earlier slip, telling Hermione and the twins that he'd been the one to set off the dungbombs in the Slytherin common room, would come back to haunt him.

"If you must know…I was in the library."

"The library?!" Hermione laughed, "You really expect me to believe that?! I don't think you even know where the library _is_!"

Ron glowered at her. "I _was_ in the library, but I'm not going to try and convince you. After all, _you_ think I'm an _idiot_."

Ron turned on his heel and started to climb the stairs. He was angry and a bit hurt by her comments, but he didn't want to give her the satisfaction of seeing his reaction. He'd only managed a few steps when Hermione called after him.

"Ron, wait! I…I'm -- wait…why couldn't you go to the library when it was _open_? Surely you weren't _embarrassed_ about going…were you?"

"You really are nosy, you know that?" Ron snapped, causing Hermione to huff indignantly, "Since you obviously _must_ know, I had to sneak into the Restricted Section because Umbridge had all the spellbooks pulled from the regular stacks in the library."

"What? Why would she do that?" Hermione asked in confused indignation.

"I dunno," Ron shrugged, "Maybe because she's a meddlesome toad."

"She's a teacher, Ronald; _and_ a Ministry official!" Hermione said, narrowing her eyes at him.

"Like that matters," Ron muttered, turning on his heel, "Good night, Hermione."

"Does this have anything to do with your meeting with Dumbledore or why Snape didn't punish you?!" she called out to his retreating back.

Ron stopped and stiffened visibly. He knew that slip of the tongue would come back to haunt him. Hermione was way too curious for anybody's good. She craved knowledge, and when she was presented with something she didn't know or couldn't understand, she studied it until she _did_ understand it. Unfortunately, if she were to understand _this_ particular mystery, she'd be in danger.

"Let it go, Hermione," Ron said coldly, "Believe me…it's for the best."

"Ronald…"

"Drop it!"

"Ronald Weasley!"

Ron continued on up to his dorm, knowing Hermione…_this_ Hermione…wouldn't come up the stairs after him, no matter how angry or curious she was. A girl going up the boys' staircase was against the rules, and she didn't have the four years of rule-breaking under her belt that _his_ Hermione had; she didn't have Ron and Harry to be bad influences on her.

Ron made his way over to his bed, stuffing the cloak, Marauders' Map, and the spell information into his trunk before getting ready for bed. He'd need to make some time to practice with the new spell before he attempted to use it on Harry, but he could worry about that in the morning. For now, he needed sleep.

* * *

The next few days passed strangely for Ron. Even though he was now on friendly terms with Neville, the round-faced boy spent a great deal of his time around Ginny and Hermione – both of whom wanted nothing to do with Ron – so Ron still wound up eating his meals alone and either sitting alone or sitting with someone from one of the other houses during class.

Saturday brought around another Quidditch practice, and once again Cormac McLaggen was absent due to a foolish bet he made with the Weasley twins. This time around, they bet him he couldn't drink a butterbeer mixed with bubotuber pus without vomiting. He couldn't, and according to Madam Pomfrey, it would be several days before he was once again released from the hospital wing.

Ron didn't perform quite as bad at the practice this time around, but he was still far from perfect. The catcalling Slytherins were absent from this practice, so instead of their constant harassment causing his nerves to get the better of him, his nerves were set off by the odd looks Fred and George kept shooting his way. He couldn't quite figure out what those looks meant, and as a result, he continued to perform sloppily.

He still had a few weeks before the first Quidditch match, so he was hopeful that he would improve enough that he could hold his own during an actual match. Then again, he still had his hopes pinned on being back home before the first Quidditch match. Of course, that didn't stop Angelina Johnson from continually imploring him to find his natural, inborn, Weasley Quidditch talent every chance she got…which just made him feel worse.

Sunday, Ron decided to test Magnum's Stunner, just to make sure he had it down-pat before he tried using it against Harry. The boys' dorm was empty and Ron took that as a sign that he should practice there. He set his pillow on Dean's bed across the room, took out his wand, and gave the parchment with the spell information one last look before casting the spell.

As soon as the spell incantation left his lips, a loud _bang_ and a large bolt of red light burst forth from his wand, hitting the pillow dead center and causing it to explode in a shower of white feathers. Ron would have considered this a successful test, except for the fact that the force of the spell shooting from his wand threw him back several feet and he collided hard with the wall next to his bed.

It was several minutes before the ringing in his ears and the black fuzzy spots behind his eyes went away and Ron was able to pull himself to his feet rather sluggishly. He stumbled over to Dean's bed and looked at what was left of his pillow, then turned and looked at the wall he'd been thrown against.

"I think I know why Magnum broke his neck using this spell," Ron groaned, rubbing the large knot on the back of his head, "I'm going to have to be more careful when I use this against Harry."

As the next week began, Ron was starting to get frustrated. He had hoped to have heard from Dumbledore about getting a chance to see what was happening back home in his own dimension, but ever since their less-than-agreeable discussion after Ron's sojourn into the Slytherin common room, Dumbledore had been absent again from all meals. The longer he was away from home, the more desperate Ron became to see what was happening there.

He couldn't prove it, but he got the feeling Dumbledore was dragging his feet on providing Ron with a glimpse of home. The headmaster had, after all, advised against Ron wanting to check in on things back home. He wanted to ask the old wizard about it, but of course, he wasn't around; Ron was sure Dumbledore was avoiding him, as well.

He had tried to storm up to the headmaster's office to confront him, but he couldn't get past the gargoyle that guarded the spiral staircase. The password had been changed, and Ron knew there was no way one of the other staff members would give it to him. He was going to have to wait for Dumbledore to send for him. Unfortunately, Ron wasn't a very patient person…especially where this particular matter was concerned.

Tuesday, Ron had a pair of unexpected visitors at breakfast. While he sat on his own at the end of the Gryffindor table, stuffing his face with eggs, sausages, and tomatoes, Fred and George Weasley took seats on either side of him and leaned in towards him, getting uncomfortably close.

"What the bloody Hell do _you_ want?!" Ron asked angrily after nearly choking on his eggs.

"We want to make you a proposition," Fred said, grinning mischievously.

"No, no way," Ron said, shaking his head, "I'm done testing your new products."

"That's not what we want," George replied, smiling, "Though now that you mention it…"

"We do have a couple of new Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes that haven't been tested yet," Fred continued for his brother, "Are you sure…"

"We couldn't tempt you?" George finished.

"What is it that you want?" Ron said gruffly. Considering the twins had to serve a week's worth of detention with Snap because of _his_ prank against the Slytherins, and they _knew_ it was _his prank_, Ron expected some sort of payback to be coming from Fred and George; and with those two, payback was liable to be painful, humiliating, messy, or all three.

"How did you manage to get into the Slytherin common room?" Fred asked bluntly, keeping his voice down so no one else would hear.

"I can't tell you that," Ron said, shaking his head, "It's a secret."

"You owe us," George reminded him, "Besides…with all the secrets you told us Friday night, what's one more?"

"Fine," Ron growled, "If you're looking to sneak into Slytherin's common room, you might try being invisible."

"Invisible?" Fred said with a bemused expression on his face, "You were invisible?"

"This time, yeah," Ron said, nodding as he went back to eating his breakfast.

"What do you mean, _'this time'_?" George asked, looking as confused as Fred, "Are you saying you've been in the Slytherin common room more than once?"

"Second year," Ron nodded again, "Used Polyjuice Potion that time, so I looked like Crabbe. Had a conversation with Malfoy and everything; he still has no idea it wasn't the real Crabbe."

"Invisibility…Polyjuice…George, if this is the sort of stuff he's capable of, I don't think we gave _our_ Ronnie enough attention," Fred said, looking completely stunned.

"Just think of all that wasted potential," George agreed, "All the trouble we could've got into together."

"To be honest, the Polyjuice Potion was Hermione's idea," Ron admitted shyly, "She brewed it in secret in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom."

"Hermione," Fred repeated, "Hermione _Granger_?"

"Your world's Granger is a rule-breaker?" George asked, stunned, "Fred, we got gypped!"

Ron gave a soft chuckle as he finished his breakfast and stood to leave the table for his first-period Charms class.

"Just remember to keep this stuff between us."

He didn't know if sharing some of his secrets with Fred and George was a good idea or not; he wasn't sure if they could be trusted. Still, Ron felt a bit lighter after being able to talk about _his own_ life instead of constantly being forced to emulate the life of _this world's_ _Ron_. He did know that Dumbledore wouldn't be happy about it, but since he wasn't very happy with Dumbledore at the present time, Ron didn't lose any sleep over it.

Wednesday afternoon, as Ron stuffed his face with Shepherd's pie, he was once again joined by the twins; this time sitting across the table from him. He looked back-and-forth at his "lunch guests" and grew worried by their deviously smiling faces.

"You never did hear our proposal yesterday," Fred said.

"Terribly rude of you to just wander off," George added.

"Quite right, George, _terribly_ rude," Fred grinned.

"I thought you just wanted to know how I got into the Slytherin dungeon," Ron replied.

"Well, we did want to know that," Fred admitted.

"But we also wanted to make you an offer," George added.

"An offer you can't possibly refuse," the twins said in unison.

"Why do I have a bad feeling about this?" Ron asked, narrowing his eyes at the twins.

"Maybe you have a guilty conscience?" Fred smirked.

"Or maybe you just know us too well," George grinned broadly.

"Enough already," Ron grumbled, "Tell me what you want."

"We want to help you," Fred said.

"Pull the other one!" Ron snorted, not believing for a second that the twins wanted to be helpful to him.

"He doesn't believe us, Fred," George said.

"Can't say as I blame him, George," Fred replied.

"We'll just have to convince him," the twins said together.

"Just get on with it already," Ron said, growing tired of their back-and-forth chatter.

"We had some time to think about what you said Friday night," Fred began, looking serious for once.

"And you're right: none of this is your fault," George continued, also looking serious.

"So, we're going to cut you some slack," Fed said, "You might not be _our brother_, but you are a Weasley."

"And we can't have you mucking up the name of Weasley with a shoddy performance on the Quidditch pitch," George added.

"To that end, we're going to help you improve," Fred said, "We'll practice with you to help you hone your Keeper skills."

"And what's this going to cost me?" Ron asked, arching an eyebrow at them.

"Hardly anything," George said with a smile.

"Just a little quid-pro-quo," Fred continued, smiling the same as George.

"Since we're cutting _you_ some slack," George went on, leaning in conspiratorially.

"We want you to look the other way from time-to-time," Fred said, leaning in as well.

"Should we run afoul of you during your prefectly duties," George finished.

"I'll think about it," he said, turning his head to look up the table where Neville, Ginny, and Hermione sat together eating their own lunch, "Of course, you're on your own as far as Hermione's concerned. If _she_ catches you, me looking the other way won't matter."

"We can handle Granger," Fred said confidently.

"No pranking her," Ron said sternly, turning to look back at Fred, "You leave her alone when you're looking for a new target to pick on."

"Fine," George sighed resignedly, "It's a shame, too; we had a doozy picked out for her."

"One last thing," Fred said, turning serious once again.

"What is it?" Ron asked, unnerved by the way these twins could actually _seem_ serious; his own Fred and George had never been serious once in all their lives.

"Ginny," George said, looking up the table as Ron had done a few moments ago.

Ron copied the action, as did Fred, and all three were watching their younger sister. Every so often she would shoot a confused glance down the table at them before turning quickly away.

"You're presence is killing her," Fred said grimly, "She was hit harder than us by Ronnie's death, and even we were…well…"

"Devastated," George finished for his brother.

Ron nodded, looking back at the twins. "What do you suggest I do?"

"Talk to her," Fred said, "Tell her what you told us."

"Just don't be as harsh about it," George suggested, "Gin's much more delicate than us."

"And we were floored by what you said," Fred admitted.

"Fine," Ron said, nodding, "I'll find a way to talk to her, but there's no guarantee it'll help."

The twins got up and left Ron to his lunch and his thoughts. He'd been meaning to clear the air with Ginny ever since his chat with Luna Lovegood back when she thought he was looking for some sort of bat up on the seventh floor. Of course, he had no idea how to approach Ginny that wouldn't have her running for the hills as soon as she spotted him. He sighed, feeling yet one more thing piled up on his shoulders.

Thursday, Ron was distracted by thoughts of how he was going to approach Ginny, so he didn't notice, at first, when someone sat across from him at the table during breakfast. He was looking down at his food, distractedly pushing his bacon around his plate when something was slid into his line of sight.

He looked up to see a small plush otter sitting on the table. Upon seeing and recognizing the stuffed animal, Ron looked up into the soft brown eyes of Hermione Granger, finally noticing her presence across the table from him.

"Hermione…!"

"How did you know?" she asked, looking at him with awe, "I never told you…I never told _anybody_ here at Hogwarts about the otters."

"Oh…err…" Ron wanted to tell her the truth, but he knew it would be too difficult for her to believe. The Weasleys at least knew most of the truth already, so anything he told them wasn't that difficult to explain, but Hermione…she knew none of it. How could explain that _she_, herself, had told him? His mind drifted back to that day during the summer before Third Year…

_Ron and Hermione had been walking around Diagon Alley for about half-an-hour on their own. They'd been hoping to run into Harry as they did so, but it looked as though they would have to start their shopping without him. Not that Ron was too upset at the prospect; he'd been looking forward to being alone with Hermione for sometime…ever since her petrification had been reversed back in June._

_He couldn't quite explain the feelings he was having lately, but he did know that being the sole object of Hermione's attention made him feel good. Even if her first thoughts still seemed to lie with Harry, when she was with him, Ron could see a different side of her. Hermione could laugh and joke and cut loose when it was just the two of them, and he liked it a lot. He liked being the one she could relax around._

_That didn't mean he didn't like being around Harry. Harry was still his best friend…_their_ best friend. But when Harry was around, whether he meant for it to happen or not, everything became about Harry. Even today had started off being about Harry._

_"Let's see if we can find Harry," Hermione had said as soon as they left the_ Leaky Cauldron_, "And then we can all buy our books and things together."_

_"Yeah, alright," Ron had agreed, hiding the disappointment in his voice._

_However, they hadn't come across Harry right away and soon Ron had begun joking around and making Hermione laugh and enjoy herself, and their other best friend seemed to have been forgotten…temporarily, of course._

_Hermione had wanted to rush right out to Flourish and Blott's in order to pick up their schoolbooks, but Ron had convinced her to wait. It was a beautiful summer day, they were free to wander Diagon Alley without adult supervision for the first time in their lives, and school shopping seemed to be a horrible waste. Ron was surprised when Hermione agreed with his reasons._

_They spent the next two hours walking up and down Diagon Alley, looking in shop windows and talking with each other like they seldom had a chance to do at school. Ron, of course, told her all about his family's trip to Egypt, and Hermione told him about her family's latest holiday in France._

_As they continued to walk, talk, and window shop, Hermione stopped and looked excitedly in the window of one particular store. It was toy shop, and at first Ron thought Hermione had gone barmy until he drew his attention to what she was looking at._

_"Look at the otter, Ron, isn't it cute?" Hermione said, pointing at a small brown plush otter sitting amidst a veritable zoo of other stuffed animals, "Oh, I love otters!"_

_Ron laughed at the excitement she was showing over a toy of all things. He'd never seen her act this way before…childlike and girly. He had to admit, he liked being the one who got to see it…who got to see her as more than just concerned about schoolwork and books and grades._

_"Before he passed away," Hermione began speaking in a faraway voice he'd never heard her use before, "My grandfather lived in a cottage near the Scottish border; it was out in the middle of nowhere, but it was beautiful, and I used to love visiting because of all the wild animals I would get to see. There was a river nearby, and a family of otters lived there; we had to be very quiet, but my grandfather and I would go and watch the otters…they were so amazing. Otters are very smart creatures, you know?"_

_Ron smiled as she talked, never hearing her talk so excitedly about something so seemingly mundane. "When's the last time you went to your grandfather's cottage?"_

_Hermione frowned, and he noticed a tear in the corner of her eye. He suddenly regretted asking her the question. "Two summers ago; he died a few days before our first year at Hogwarts ended. My father went to clear out the cottage, but I couldn't bear to go with him. It would be too hard without my grandfather there."_

_"I'm sorry, Hermione," Ron said, feeling awkward. Should he hug her? Should he pat her on the back? He settled for putting his hand on her shoulder. She smiled up at him and wiped her tears._

_"Come on, Ron, let's go get our books."_

_Ron took one last look at the otter, determined to come back and buy it once he was finished buying his books for the school year. Unfortunately, even after buying used copies of almost all his books, he didn't have enough for the otter once he was done. The otter would have to wait._

_And wait, it did. Third Year went by, and Ron forgot about the little stuffed otter as they were swept up in the whole business with Sirius Black and overwhelmed by _new_ shopping opportunities at Hogsmeade Village near school. Fourth Year was much the same, though it was the Triwizard Tournament and Harry's unfortunate inclusion that drew their attention this time._

_However, on a trip to Diagon Alley with his mum prior to moving into Grimauld Place last summer, Ron had caught sight of the otter again in the toy shop window. The fact that it was still there after two years told Ron it was meant for him to buy it for Hermione. Which he did…twice; he just hoped he'd get a chance to give _his_ Hermione back home the otter someday soon._

"Ron? Hello?" Hermione waved her hand in front of Ron's face, drawing him out of his thoughts.

"Huh? Oh…err…sorry, Hermione," Ron said, blushing, "What were we talking about?"

"I asked how you knew that I loved otters, Ron," Hermione said, smiling bemusedly at him.

"Oh…well…I didn't," he lied, "I mean, how could I, right? I just figured…otters are smart…you're smart…you kind of go together."

She arched her eyebrow at him, and he got the funny feeling she didn't believe him. "Well, whatever the reason you did it, it was very sweet…thank you."

"You're welcome," Ron said, nodding, "Happy Birthday, Hermione."

Hermione smiled brightly as she got up and made her way over to Neville and Ginny. Ron chanced a look over at the other Gryffindors and found Neville giving him a knowing smile. Ron waved him off and went back to his breakfast. He still had a lot to think about…not the least of which was finding out if Harry was carrying Riddle's diary with him.

If he was going to do it, today would be the best day to follow Harry and Stun him. A double period of Potions fell right before lunch, so Ron knew that as soon as class was over, Harry would be heading for the Chamber of Secrets, and Ron would have his best chance to follow him. He could miss a few minutes of lunch without drawing attention, after all.

Ron was concerned about the power behind the spell, however. It had enough kick to throw him across the room as he cast it, and when it hit the pillow he was using for a target, nothing was left but feathers and a few bits of cloth. Nothing in the book had said anything about Magnum's spell _killing_ the monsters it was used on…the text said the spell knocked them out. Of course, Harry was a lot smaller than a dragon or a giant…the last thing he wanted to do was to kill the very person he was trying to save.

Ron's options were limited, however. With Harry possessed by Tom Riddle's diary, he was certain that a normal spell wouldn't work; something obscure and powerful was what was called for. Yes, Ron was concerned that it was _too_ powerful…but it wasn't as though his testing of the spell was a fair representation of the spell's power. Harry wasn't nearly as flimsy as a pillow, after all.

_"It'll be fine,"_ Ron kept telling himself, as he went through the motions of his morning classes, _"This spell isn't going to kill him…he's not a pillow."_

When Potions was over, Ron practically ran from the dungeon to the second floor girls' lavatory. He had used various hidden passageways and the invisibility cloak to make it there quickly and unseen.

Once inside Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, Ron checked the Marauders' Map to confirm that he had arrived before Harry. Sure enough, the scrambled nametag above the dot that Ron knew represented Harry was currently moving down the second floor corridor towards Ron's current position on the map at a slow, measured pace.

That was one of many strange things that Ron noticed about _this_ Harry: he didn't _rush_ anywhere. The Harry that Ron knew was always running around for some reason or another; whether it was because he was late for class or just speeding headlong into danger, _his Harry_ was always in a hurry.

_This Harry_, however, never ran…never rushed around anywhere. He always moved at a steady gait that implied that he was above such petty things as running. It was as if he felt that the world should wait for _him_, and God help the world if it didn't.

Ron figured that was Riddle's influence; just like quitting Quidditch. Ron couldn't imagine a world where Harry would _voluntarily_ give up one of the few things in life that brought him joy. On the flip-side, he couldn't imagine You-Know-who doing anything enjoyable…especially Quidditch.

Of course, Ron didn't usually _imagine_ He-Who-Should-Not-Be-Named doing anything. He spent his entire lie trying _not_ to imagine You-Know-Who; most wizarding children did…it was ingrained in them from an early age. You-Know-Who ranked right at the top of the list alongside giant, man-eating spiders – thanks to Hagrid – of nightmare creatures that Ron Weasley did his best not to think about. He'd faced down acromantulas in second year, and now, here he was, trying to wrest control of Harry Potter from You-Know-Who's grasp.

_"I must be effing mental!"_ Ron thought as he watched Harry's dot grow steadily closer.

Ron folded the map closed and tucked it inside his robe. Taking a deep breath, Ron braced himself against the bathroom wall, wand at the ready, and went over the spell incantation in his head.

_"I can do this,"_ Ron silently repeated over and over in his head, trying to psych himself up.

The door to the bathroom opened and Ron held his breath, his heart hammering so loudly in his chest that he feared Harry might hear it. Harry entered the lavatory and strode over to the sinks that concealed the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets.

Ron released the breath he'd been holding slowly and raised his wand, aiming at Harry's back. He was just about to wave his wand and call out the spell incantation when a voice rang out, sending a chill down Ron's spine.

"You, again?"

* * *

**AUTHOR'S END NOTES: **Yep. Another cliffhanger. I'll post the next update in two weeks, so have a safe and happy holiday and check back then!


	17. Reflections of the Familiar

**Author's Notes:** HAPPY NEW YEAR!! Or, rather, Happy New Year to those of you following the Gregorian calendar, as most of the world does these days. I hope everyone's holidays were safe and happy. Mine were...well...they've been WORSE, let me just say that.

I almost forgot to post this week. In fact, I had intended to post last night, but somewhere along the line I went to be really early (like 8:00 PM) for some reason, and was so out of it when I woke up (around 2:00 AM) that I didn't know WHAT was going on. However, here I am now, posting...so no harm done.

Before I forget, I'd like to take this opportunity to address a few of you out there who may feel forgotten by me. I pride myself on replying to each and every one of my reviews. Well, it seems that SOME of the reviews never actually made it to my inbox, so there's about half-a-dozen people whose reviews I've never responded to. If you are one of them, I apologize...and in the immortal words of Han Solo in EMPIRE STRIKES BACK when he engages the hyperdrive and it doesn't work (and, also, Lando Calrissian when he does the same thing later), _It's not my fault!_

I've been getting quite a bit of writing done in my spare time, and I'm currently in the midst of writing Chapter 21; this means that for at least the next couple of months, there will be no disruption in posting. Every two weeks will be something new...and hopefully it'll be something enjoyable. For now, though, here's Chapter 17...read and (hopefully) enoy!

**Thanks:** Thanks to everyone who reviews...they really mean a lot to me...and really help to keep me motivated. And a special thanks, as always, to CutewithAcapital-Q for being my beta on this story. Having her along for the ride has been very helpful, and I look forward to continuing to have her helping out well into 2010 and beyond.

**Disclaimer: **JKR's...not mine.

**

* * *

**

**MIRROR, MIRROR  
****Chapter 17  
****"Reflections of the Familiar"**

**  
**

"You, again?"

Ron turned his head and felt his stomach sink as Moaning Myrtle appeared, passing through the door to one of the toilet cubicles. He thought for sure that she was talking to him. Could ghosts see through the invisibility cloak?

"You would do well to leave, Mudblood," Harry sneered without even bothering to look at her, "Perhaps, find some new plumbing to haunt."

Ron quietly breathed a sigh of relief as he realized that the ghost girl wasn't talking to him after all. He aimed his wand at Harry's back, readying himself to invoke the spell. The next words out of Myrtle's mouth stopped Ron cold…again.

"I told someone about you," Myrtle said, giggling maliciously at Harry as she floated up to circle the ceiling, "Your secret's not a secret anymore."

Ron grimaced at Myrtle's words. _He'd_ been the one she told, and if she shared that information with Harry, Ron knew that the target on his back would grow even larger.

_"Shut up, Myrtle! Shut up, shut up, shut up!"_ Ron silently willed the ghost girl to keep his identity a secret.

"Who've you told?" Harry demanded, his voice cold and deadly as he turned and looked up at the circling ghost, "Tell me now, or I shall show you that there are ways to inflict pain, even upon the dead."

"It was one of the prefects," Myrtle said, grinning spitefully before speaking in a sing-song manner and laughing, "You're going to be in trouble!"

Ron didn't know what made his blood run colder, the sound of Myrtle's vindictive laughter echoing off the stone walls of the bathroom, or the murderous look in Harry's eyes as he turned back around to face the sinks.

A horrible, guttural hissing noise began issuing from Harry's mouth; it was a sound that Ron hadn't heard since Second Year and it made him freeze. The copper tap on the sink – the one with the snake design scratched into it – began to glow with a blinding white light as it spun around. The entire sink began to move, lowering into the floor to reveal a large, gaping pipe wide enough for a man to slide into.

"Take heart, Mudblood; your precious prefect will be joining you. Perhaps he'll even share your toilet," Harry said with a vicious sneer as he took a step towards the pipe.

Ron finally managed to come back to his senses as he realized that he was missing his opportunity; Harry was nearly to the pipe! Taking one final breath, and bracing himself firmly against the wall, Ron waved his wand at Harry and called out the spell incantation.

_BANG!_

The sound of the spell going off reverberated off the walls as a bolt of red light sliced through the air and slammed squarely into Harry's back. Ron felt the recoil of the spell pressing him into the wall as Harry was flung across the room by the impact, crashing into the far wall with a sickening _thud_.

Ron slid down the wall, trying to catch his breath. Magnum's Stunner really knocked the wind out of him, though it was nothing compared to what it had done to Harry. The dark-haired boy lay crumpled on the floor across the room, seemingly lifeless.

_"Shite! Shite!! Shite!!!"_ Ron cursed internally as he struggled to get to his feet. The invisibility cloak had managed to stay on his body, which was fortunate, since Moaning Myrtle had just flown out into the hall, screaming at the top of her voice about an attack in her bathroom. It wouldn't be long before the room was filled with concerned teachers and curious students.

Ron scrambled across the room, mindful of the gaping hole in the floor, and dropped down next to Harry. His time was limited, so he had to be as quick as he possibly could.

"I'm really sorry, Harry," Ron said to the unmoving form in front of him, "Please don't be dead, mate."

Ron gently rolled Harry over onto his back and breathed a sigh of relief when he saw that the other boy was still breathing. He couldn't judge any injuries Harry might possibly have, but at least he was alive. Ron could still hear Myrtle's shrill voice as she screamed her head off up-and-down the corridor, so he quickly began to rifle through Harry's robes.

"I really am sorry about all this, mate," Ron said guiltily as he searched Harry, feeling a bit like a mugger rolling a drunk, "Hopefully you'll forgive me once this is all over and you're back to normal."

Ron's search of Harry's person produced a wand and a fat money pouch loaded with galleons, but no diary. Ron frowned as he felt his stomach drop down into his shoes. He shot a glance over his shoulder at the hole in the floor. He was going to have to enter the Chamber…but not yet. He wasn't ready for that, yet.

Ron prepared to leave, once again disappointed that his efforts had come to naught. His eyes drifted to Harry's wand as he attempted to stuff it back inside the unconscious boy's robes. The wand didn't look right.

Being Harry Potter's best friend since they were eleven years old, Ron possessed a fairly extensive knowledge of what Harry's wand looked like. He couldn't tell you the wood type or the exact length…though he did know the core was a phoenix feather…but he definitely knew Harry's wand on sight; and this wasn't it. The wood looked different, and this wand was too long; it was almost as long as his own wand, in fact.

"Where did you get this wand, Harry?" Ron asked rhetorically. He didn't have time to further ponder the mysterious wand however, as he could now hear footsteps coming down the hall and Harry was beginning to stir.

Dropping the wand, Ron hurried out of Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, careful to make sure the invisibility cloak kept him hidden. He threw himself behind a suit of armor and waited as a group of teachers and staff – led by Filch and Snape – made their way towards the bathroom with Moaning Myrtle floating along beside them.

"A dead boy in my bathroom," Myrtle moaned, "Someone attacked him and killed him! I don't care how cute he is…I don't want that mean boy sharing my U-bend!"

"Quiet, you!" Filch snapped as the group reached the bathroom door.

The door was pushed open, and the staff members all crowded inside the loo. Ron was about to make a break for it…to run down to the Great Hall and rejoin the student body as they ate lunch…but after being inside Myrtle's bathroom for only a few moments, the staff members exited, grumbling to each other.

"I told you we shouldn't listen to her, Professor," Filch complained as he and Snape brought up the rear, "Annoying little ghost going on and on about the dead boy in her bathroom and a large hole in the floor…when there's really nothing to be found! We should have the whole population of ghosts exorcised from within these castle walls…and Peeves with 'em!"

"That will be quite enough, Mr. Filch," Snape said disinterestedly as they walked away from Myrtle's bathroom.

The sound of Myrtle throwing a fit inside the loo could be heard out in the hall as Ron left his hiding spot. He looked perplexed as he watched the last of the Hogwarts staff turn the corner and disappear from view. They had obviously not seen Harry or the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets when they entered the lavatory. Harry had obviously regained his senses and escaped into the Chamber…sealing the entrance…before anyone could arrive.

_"That was too close,"_ Ron thought as he found a safe spot to remove the invisibility cloak and made his way down to the Great Hall. He'd taken yet another great risk and it had once again been in vain, _"I should've known all along that I'd have to go down into the Chamber of Secrets."_

* * *

The remainder of the week passed in sort of a fog for Ron; it was as if his body was going through the motions, but his mind was a million miles away. Before he knew it, it was Saturday night and he was once again on patrol with Hermione.

The first half of the patrol passed in awkward silence as Ron continued to dwell on his failed attempts to retrieve Riddle's diary and his eventual, inevitable journey down into the Chamber of Secrets. He hadn't noticed any of the significant looks that Hermione had given him, and her few attempts at small-talk to help pass the time were met with either one-word answers or grunts of acknowledgement.

It wasn't until they had an encounter with Peeves the Poltergeist that Ron finally pulled himself out of the fugue state he'd been in for the last two days. Of course, it took a water balloon to the face to bring Ron around, but bring him around, it did. He was drenched from head-to-foot and as he glanced over at Hermione, it was obvious that she was holding back a laugh. Peeves, once he'd had his fun, flew off while reciting a dirty limerick.

"You look like Crookshanks the last time I gave him a bath," Hermione said, unable to hold back her laughter anymore.

"Thanks a lot," Ron grumbled, narrowing his eyes at her.

"Are you alright?" she asked, getting her laughter under control.

"Yeah, I'm fine," he replied, pushing his soaking wet hair up out of his face, "It's just a little water."

Hermione used her wand to siphon off the excess water and then cast a drying charm on Ron, earning her a nod and a smile of gratitude and appreciation from the redhead.

"Actually," Hermione said, starting to blush and look down at her shoes nervously, "I meant in more _general_ terms. You've been acting strange…even for you…ever since my birthday. I thought maybe you regretted giving me the otter…"

"Oh…err…no," Ron said, shaking his head, "That's not it. I've just had a lot on my mind."

"Really?" Hermione seemed to be fighting back a smirk…though not very successfully.

"It _has_ happened before," Ron replied, feigning a disgruntled frown.

"Problems with Quidditch?" she asked curiously.

Ron rolled his eyes. "There _are_ other things in life besides Quidditch, you know."

"Who are you, and what have you done with Ron Weasley?" Hermione asked in mock surprise.

"Funny," Ron replied dryly.

"Well, if it's not Quidditch, then what _is_ it…or is it something you can't tell me…again?" she asked, narrowing her eyes.

"Hermione…" he said warningly.

"Does it maybe have something to do with why Professor Snape and Professor Dumbledore won't punish you for setting off dungbombs in the Slytherin common room?" she was rubbing her chin like she was trying to figure out a difficult Arithmantic equation.

"Can we please just drop it, Hermione?" Ron pleaded, knowing this would all just lead to yet another row between them.

"I don't understand _why_ they wouldn't punish you," Hermione continued unabated, "Unless you had some sort of dirt on them and were threatening to expose their secrets."

"Hermione, please…"

"But, I can't imagine that being the case," she rattled on, "Not only can I not see them knuckling under to blackmail, I can't see you sinking low enough to blackmail someone in the first place. I mean, you're many things…but blackmail is something a Slytherin would do…and you're no Slytherin."

"Err…thanks…I think."

"Don't get me wrong," she said, qualifying her statement, "You're lazy, deceitful, temperamental, stubborn, and even cruel sometimes…"

"Thanks a _lot_," Ron said acerbically, frowning at the list of negative qualities she'd attributed to him.

"But," she continued, "I reckon there's a reason you were sorted into Gryffindor…and not _just_ because your whole family's been sorted into the same house for forever."

"Such as?" he prompted.

"Well," Hermione began wringing her hands, as though she was nervous or embarrassed to continue, "You're funny and have a quick wit and you're amazing at chess…which shows that you _are_ smart as long as you're applying yourself to something you enjoy. You've been Neville's best friend since First Year, even though other people – Gryffindors included – make fun of him…so you're obviously loyal. You never back down from Malfoy and his goons, even when you're outnumbered…so you're brave; reckless…but brave. And…to be completely honest…you've also showed me that you can be nice…even sweet…when you want to be."

"Oh, really?" Ron said, grinning broadly and making Hermione blush deeply, "How so?"

"How are you _sweet_?" she asked incredulously, "You expect me to give you a list?"

"Why not?"

Hermione glared at him. "Mind you, none of this talk of you being sweet is based on your _current_ behavior."

"Fair enough," he said, continuing to grin broadly.

"Well…" she hesitated, wringing her hands more fervently, clearly embarrassed by the current line of discussion, "You rescued Crookshanks after he was stuck in a toilet by the Slytherins…even though you really don't like him. You've stood up for me when the Slytherins have picked on me…even though you really don't like _me_. And when everyone closest to me got me books or quills or something _they_ wanted to see me wear for my birthday, you got me something that reminds me of the time I used to spend with my grandfather…even though there's absolutely no reason you should've gotten me a present in the first place."

"And that's how I'm sweet?" he asked, continuing to beam at her. He was enjoying hearing her say nice things about him for once, and he wanted to bask in her compliments…even if it _did_ grate on Hermione a bit. Of course, teasing her and annoying her made it that much more enjoyable…and reminded him of home a great deal.

"Don't let it go to your head," she grumbled, folding her arms across her chest and glowering at him, "You're also irresponsible, unable or unwilling to follow the rules…not exactly attributes one wants to find in a _prefect_…and you're a prat."

"Oh, so I'm a prat, now?" he asked, smirking. Winding up _this Hermione_ was almost as much fun as winding up _his Hermione_.

"No…not just _now_," she said spitefully, "You're _usually_ a prat!"

"And yet," he said, continuing to tease her, "You, yourself, admitted that you think I'm sweet."

"Well, I've been wrong before," she replied grumpily, turning to walk away.

"Not you, 'Mione; you're never wrong," he said, moving to keep pace with her.

"What did you say?!" Hermione turned to face him so quick that Ron had to step back, startled.

"Err…I said 'you're never wrong'?" Ron answered, wondering how _that_ could have possibly been the _wrong_ thing to say.

"What did call me?" she asked, furrowing her brows at him.

"Err…" he couldn't remember what he had called her; he hadn't been thinking about it. Did he call her 'Hermione' or…?

"Did you call me ''Mione'?"

"Err…" Ron's eyes widened as he realized what he'd done. They had slipped into lighthearted bantering so easily that it was so easy to think of _this Hermione_ as _his Hermione_…it was so easy to slip and call her _''Mione'_.

"That's not the first time you've done that, either," she said, giving him a strange look.

"It isn't?" he asked, his voice cracking slightly. He honestly couldn't remember using that nickname with her before, but he often spoke without thinking, so it wasn't exactly impossible to imagine. "I'm really --…"

"Why do you call me that?" Hermione asked, her expression unreadable.

"I don't know…it's just a nickname," Ron said shrugging, "I mean, you said it, yourself…I'm _lazy_; I reckon sometimes it's just easier to shorten your name."

"Don't you think it's a bit too familiar for a nickname?" she asked, "Considering we barely know each other. I mean…it's almost like you're saying _'mine'_."

"Oh…err…" he couldn't help stammering and blushing at her words; _his_ Hermione had never called him out on the meaning behind the nickname before…she just let him get away with it unless she was mad at him, and then she just marked it down to him being too lazy to say her full name. She'd never confronted him about the deeper meaning, and he liked it that way; thinking about the deeper meaning meant confronting feelings he wasn't sure he was allowed to have about his best friend.

"I don't think my boyfriend would like you calling me that," she said in a small voice, looking away from him.

"Your boyfriend…of course," Ron said flatly, frowning. She had to go and ruin it. They were having an enjoyable conversation – at least, he was enjoying it – and then she had to go and bring Krum into it. "So, how _is_ darling Vicky?"

"Don't call him that!" Hermione snapped angrily, turning to glare at him, "His name is _Viktor_, and if you can't refer to him as such, then I have nothing further to say to you."

"Fine," Ron replied acidly.

The patrol resumed in silence and nearly half-an-hour passed before either of them spoke again; despite her earlier assurance that she had nothing further to say to him, it was Hermione who broke the silence.

"I don't understand why you don't like him," she said softly, as though she were afraid that yelling would ensue, "Neville said you used to idolize him."

"Things change," he replied flatly, keeping his eyes straight ahead.

"But what caused it to change?" she asked desperately, "I know you lost money by gambling on the Triwizard Tournament; is that why you don't like Viktor…because you lost money betting on him?"

"I don't want to talk about it," he said brusquely, continuing to avoid looking at her.

"I used to think you didn't like him because he was _my boyfriend_," Hermione said, "Because you hated _me_. But Neville assured me that's not the case."

"I don't hate you, if that's what you mean; far from it, in fact. I wish you and…err…_I_…had been friends all these years." Ron replied, wanting to talk about anything other than her relationship with Viktor-sodding-Krum.

"Oh, now you don't expect me to believe that, now do you?" she scoffed, "You _hated_ me in First Year…you called me a _nightmare_!"

"I remember…believe me. Did I ever apologize to you for that…for calling you a nightmare and nearly getting you killed?" he asked, finally looking at her. He couldn't remember if any of the other Ron's memories featured an apology to Hermione.

"I…I don't think so," she said, clearly surprised by the remorseful tone in his voice.

"I really was a tosser back then," Ron said, clearly meaning _the other Ron_, "I know it's four years too late, but I really _am_ sorry, Hermione."

"I…err…apology accepted," Hermione said, smiling shyly, "You really do like to confuse me, don't you?"

"How do you mean?" he asked, feeling a bit confused, himself.

"You…this…" she replied, waving her hands in an all-encompassing motion, "You rescue my cat, you're nice to me, you give me a very sweet gift…and yet you want to keep everything about yourself a secret – including your reasons for hating my boyfriend – and when I push you to tell me, you get angry and start yelling at me."

"Isn't there anything about yourself that you don't want other people to know about?" he asked.

"I suppose," she said, nodding, "But nothing so interesting that it somehow involves the headmaster and our Potions professor."

"So, you admit it…you _are_ nosy," he chuckled.

"I prefer to think of myself as _curious_, thank you very much," she said in a very haughty voice, though her grin lessened the effect considerably, "Besides, as a duly-appointed Gryffindor prefect, I need to keep apprised of any potential rule-breaking committed by members of my house."

"So, I should tell you ahead of time when I plan on breaking the rules?" he laughed.

"That _would_ be nice, yes," she said, nodding, "If I were forewarned, then perhaps I would be able to talk you out of it."

"Not bloody likely!"

"Language, Ronald."

Ron smiled at the familiar scolding from Hermione. This really felt like home to Ron.

"Why would I want to let you talk me out of breaking the rules?" he asked, grinning lopsidedly, "Where's the fun in that?"

"Fun? You're a prefect!" she exclaimed, "It's your job to set an example for the other students…especially the younger ones."

"You really do sound like Percy, you know that?" he said snidely, cutting his eyes at her.

"Your brother? I'll take that as a compliment," she responded, "I always admired your brother."

"_That_ prat?!" Ron exclaimed, unable to believe his ears, "Why would anybody admire _him_?!"

"Maybe because he's smart and responsible and went on to become head boy," Hermione said, completely serious, "Plus…didn't he go on to a successful position in the Ministry?"

Ron snorted derisively. "Oh, sure…Percy's success means _everything_ to him. You do realize that you idolize a bloke who went on to disown his own family, insult his father, and break his mother's heart…all in the name of his successful career."

Hermione's eyes widened as Ron finished his rant. "I had no idea…Ginny never said --…wait. If Percy is alienated from the family, why does he correspond with Ginny? She got a letter from him just the other day…"

Now it was Ron's eyes' turn to grow wide. He'd screwed up again. He assumed that, if _his_ Percy was a power-hungry prat who cared more about his career than his family, that _this_ Percy must be one, too. But this was a different world…a different Percy. Ron's mouth opened and closed as he tried to think of what to say while Hermione continued to look at him expectantly.

Before Ron could come up with a believable excuse for his gaffe concerning Percy, Hermione cocked her head to the side as if listening for something. She then began waving her hands at him frantically before putting a single finger to her own lips in a hushing motion.

"Shhh!" she hissed, "I hear something!"

Their patrol had taken them to the western portion of the castle, and they were now standing at the foot of the staircase leading up into the owlery.

"What is it?" Ron asked in a whisper.

"I think someone's up in the owlery," Hermione said, looking up the winding steps towards the top of the tower, "I'm sure I heard a voice."

"Maybe they just needed to send a letter," he said, shrugging as he followed her lead and looked up the steps.

Hermione frowned. "Well then, they should have done it _before_ curfew started," she replied in a voice that was strict and authoritative despite being spoken in a whisper, "We can't just let everyone go who breaks the rules, Ron."

Ron rolled his eyes and before he could say another word, Hermione had her wand out in front of her and she was climbing the steps of the West Tower towards the owlery. Sighing, Ron began climbing the steps alongside her, knowing an argument about his responsibilities as a prefect would ensue if he allowed her to go it alone.

The two prefects remained as quiet as they could when they reached the owlery. Yes, they assumed it was just someone sending off some owl-post after hours, but they had to be sure. It could be a couple of students looking for a secluded place to snog…or, it could be a group of mischief-makers playing tricks…or, it could be Ron's little sister sobbing heartbrokenly as she sat amidst the old straw, owl-droppings, and rodent bones in the middle of the floor.

To say that Ron had not been expecting to find Ginny in the owlery would have been a severe understatement. He froze in his tracks, unsure of what he should do. Had it not been for Hermione standing there next to him, it's very likely that Ron would have turned on his heel and left Ginny to her misery.

"You need to talk to her," Hermione whispered, nudging him with her elbow.

"What? Why me?" Ron asked, keeping his voice low.

"She's _your_ sister," she reminded him, "Besides, she won't tell me or Neville what's wrong; she keeps telling us 'it's a family matter'. What _is_ wrong, anyway?"

"You heard her: it's a family matter," he said brusquely. There was no way he could explain this to Hermione without telling her _everything_.

"Fine," she sighed resignedly, "Since you won't tell me either, _you_ go deal with your sister and _I'll_ finish up our patrol."

"Hermione…"

"Goodbye, Ron."

Ron sighed in frustration as Hermione turned on the spot and descended the tower steps. He was fairly sure he had hurt her feelings by keeping yet another secret from her, but this was not something he could tell her, whether he wanted to or not. The winding staircase took her quickly out of sight and soon the sound of her footsteps disappeared into the distance.

Ron took a deep breath and turned back around, watching Ginny. There was nothing he could do to fix the situation between himself and Hermione right now, but he could attempt to clear the air between himself and Ginny. He did tell the twins he would talk to her, after all.

Even though he knew he needed to talk to her, still he hesitated. Ron had been avoiding this particular confrontation ever since he arrived…ever since Dumbledore _Borrowed_ him. He couldn't keep avoiding her, though; Hermione and Neville and Luna had already started asking questions…it was only a matter of time before others did, as well. He knew it would make things simpler if he just got it out of the way…no matter how painful it was going to be.

Standing in the doorway in silence, Ron watched Ginny call down the little grey owl – his owl – expecting to see her sending off a letter; instead, she started talking to the bird in a sad, broken voice. She was talking too quietly for Ron to hear what she was saying, but her sorrow was evident as she sat there stroking the owl lovingly.

The little grey puffball of feathers hooted excitedly, as she talked to it, nipping at her fingers in an affectionate way. She laughed despite her tears and planted a gentle kiss on the crown of the bird's head.

She continued talking softly too the owl, only stopping when her tears overcame her. Ron could see her whole body shaking from the mournful sobs that were wracking her body. He wasn't much for emotional displays – angry outbursts, notwithstanding – but right then, all he wanted to do was reach out and give her a cuddle…to comfort her. But he knew that he couldn't…he couldn't just walk in and grab her; she'd have a fit and would very likely hex him for his efforts.

It took several minutes for Ginny to compose herself, but once she did she went right on talking to the little owl. She sniffed again and Ron watched her wipe away her tears with her free hand. The girl broke down again, and his instinct to rush in and comfort her nearly got the better of him; he took a step into the room before stopping himself.

The grief-stricken girl broke down once again, collapsing into a heap as the great, heaving sobs overtook her body. The tiny owl flew up and landed on her shoulder, chewing on her long, coppery strands of hair. It was too much for him; he could remain silent no longer.

"Gin…" Ron said softly, moving slowly into the owlery, trying not to startle her.

"GET OUT!!" Ginny shrieked when she realized who it was that had invaded her private moment, "Get away from me!"

"Gin-Gin, please…"

"Don't you call me that, you imposter!" she shouted, pulling herself to her feet and backing away from him, "Don't you _ever_ call me that!"

"Fine…_Ginny_…there; better?

"No, it's not better, you idiot!" she screamed, "Nothing will ever be better again! You may've tricked the twins into accepting you, but _I_ never will!!"

No doubt confused and frightened by all the shouting and the appearance of the beloved master he thought was dead, Pigwidgeon took to the air and began flying excited circles around the heads of the two redheads.

"Ginny, I know that nothing will ever be the same for you, and I'm sorry," Ron said, taking slow, measured steps towards her, "Believe me…I wish things were different. I wish your brother hadn't died and I hadn't been brought here…and I really wish _I_ wasn't a source of constant pain for you and your family. I mean, think about it…we're all Weasleys…any pain I cause any of _you_, it's like I'm hurting my own family."

"Then why don't you just leave?" she said bitterly, "Go back where you belong and leave us to our misery in peace!"

"I can't do that, Gin; you know I can't," he said, stepping closer, "I can't leave until I complete this mission that Dumbledore laid out in front of me. And every time someone gets suspicious about why my _'family'_ is treating me like a bloody outcast, it makes my mission that much harder."

"So what do you expect us to do, _'Ron'_?!" Ginny snapped, glaring at him, "You want us to throw our arms around you and weep for joy? 'Who cares about our dead brother? We've got this passable replacement who will be buggering off just as soon as his mission's finished.'"

"Gin…"

"I WANT MY BROTHER BACK!!" she screamed at the top of her lungs, tears pouring down her cheeks. Ginny started to wobble and looked to be about to collapse again. Ron was across the floor and had her gathered up in a cuddle before she could protest.

"I know you do, Gin," Ron said in his most comforting voice, "I'm so sorry, Gin-Gin."

"I want my brother, Ronnie," Ginny sobbed, burying her face in Ron's chest, her tears soaking his robes, "I loved him so much and I never told him!"

"I know…_he_ knew…" he said, holding her tight. Ron was rubbish with crying girls – especially crying Hermiones – but Ginny wasn't a _girl_; she was his _sister_, and he had years of practice with crying Ginnys. "I'll tell you a secret about us Ron Weasleys, Gin: we may not act like it all the time, and we may never actually say it, but we love our little sisters like nobody else on the planet."

The two Weasleys held each other tightly while Ginny released her grief into the surprisingly absorbent folds of Ron's robes. It was several minutes before either one of them spoke again.

"Do…do you miss her?" Ginny asked, looking up at Ron with red, puffy eyes and a runny nose, "_Your_ Ginny, I mean."

"Yeah, I do," Ron nodded, leaning down to plant a gentle kiss on the top of her head, "I miss everybody…well…maybe not Percy."

"I…I hope you get back there soon," she sniffed, "She's probably out of her mind with worry…they all are, I bet."

"_If_ I get back," he said, trying not to dwell on the fact that there was no guarantee he'd complete his mission – especially with the danger of going down into the Chamber of Secrets, "I expect to be on the receiving end of one Hell of a Bat Bogey Hex."

Ginny laughed in spite of herself and hugged him tighter, "You deserve it for making her worry."

"Well then," Ron said with a sardonic smirk, "Someone should be sure to lay one on Dumbledore, since _he_ got me into this."

"I'll get right on it," she said before burying her face in his chest again.

They grew quiet once more as they stood there, holding each other. A soft chuckle escaped Ron's lips as Pigwidgeon landed atop his head and began tugging lovingly at his red locks.

"I missed you, too, you barmy bird."

Pig hooted happily as Ron once more settled into silence. It was Ginny who broke the silence this time.

"Ronnie?"

"Yeah, Gin?"

"I'll do whatever I can to help you…you know…with your mission," she said softly.

"You don't need to do that," he replied, "But thank you."

"Ronnie?"

"Yeah, Gin?"

"I love you."

"I love you, too, Gin-Gin."

* * *

Things started to look up for Ron after his confrontation with Ginny in the owlery. At breakfast the next day, he took up his usual lonely position at the end of the Gryffindor table and had just taken his first bite of a bacon sarnie when, for the fourth time that week, he was joined unexpectedly.

He looked up as Ginny plopped down across from him and began piling food on her plate, tossing him a knowing wink. Neville sat down next to her and beamed brightly at him as he, too, began gathering food on his plate. The capper was when Hermione took the seat directly to Ron's left and carefully began assembling a healthy balanced breakfast of fruit and toast onto her plate.

His mouth gaped open in surprise at the new arrivals and Ginny clucked her tongue at him as she started digging into her eggs.

"Eww! Merlin's boots, Ron…close your mouth when you eat," she scolded him with a smile on her face, "Nobody needs to see that."

Bemused by the sudden company, Ron closed his mouth and resumed eating. He looked further up the Gryffindor table to find Fred and George smiling encouragingly at him. He nodded in their direction before moving his gaze up to the staff table. He was surprised to see that, for the first time in a long time, Dumbledore was seated at his spot at the high table.

Before Ron could ponder the implications of the headmaster finally returning to the Great Hall at mealtime, students started looking up excitedly as the air was filled with owls delivering the daily post.

A brown owl landed next to him with Hermione's copy of the _Daily Prophet_, which she hurriedly paid for and spread out before her. She hadn't spoken to him since sitting down, or smiled at him, or acknowledged him in any way…obviously still sore at him from last night. Even though it annoyed him that Hermione wasn't talking to him, it gave him a sense of satisfaction that she was, at least, sitting with him.

Ron hadn't gotten one piece of post since arriving in this dimension, and he didn't expect today to be any different. However, as he continued to devour his bacon sandwich, he suddenly found himself being perched upon by an excitedly hooting little grey puffball of an owl. Before Ron could reach up and grab Pig off the top of his head, the little owl hopped down and landed on his plate, extending his leg towards Ron expectantly.

Sharing a confused look with Ginny, Ron reached over and removed the rolled up piece of parchment that was tied to the owl's tiny leg.

"Who would --…?" Ginny began, looking at Ron.

"No idea," Ron said, cutting her off.

He quickly unrolled the parchment and read the short note. His stomach dropped at the same time an excited tingle of anticipation raced up his spine. The note was unsigned, but as he looked quickly up at the staff table, Ron didn't _need_ a signature to know who it was from.

_Meet me tonight at 7:00. The password is "Cockroach Cluster". Be careful what you wish for._

* * *

**Author's End Notes: **And there you have it. Hopefully some of you enjoyed that. In two weeks, Ron gets his chance to see what's been happening back home. See you then!


	18. Reflections of Necessity

**Author's Notes:** To say this chapter was much-anticipated would be an understatement. Almost from the beginning, people have been clammoring for a glimpse back at Ron's world, wanting to know what's been going on _there_ while Ron has been off playing the reluctant hero in the Mirror universe. To be completely an utterly honest, I had absolutely NO intention of EVER showing what was going on back home, because THAT'S not the story. The story is what's going on with Ron in the world he's stuck in until he completes his mission. However, so many readers kept asking for it that I decided to weave it into the story...which is where we are now.

Ron FINALLY gets his chance to see what's going on back home, even though Dumbledore advised against it and tried to talk him out of it. _Be careful what you wish for_. They were Dumbledore's words to Ron, and their my words to you now. You wanted to see it, but that doesn't mean you're going to be happy about it once it's all said and done. Enough talking...go...read!

**Thanks:** Thanks to everyone whose ever reviewed, and a SPECIAL thanks to my very good friend, CutewithAcaptial-Q for being my beta, friend, and sounding board. She helps me out in so many ways.

**Disclaimer:** It all belongs to JKR...except the stuffed otter...that was mine.

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* * *

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_**MIRROR, MIRROR  
**_**Chapter 18  
**"**Reflections of Necessity"**

"You're early, Mr. Weasley," Dumbledore said from his position behind the massive desk.

"Err…yeah…sorry 'bout that," Ron said nervously. He hadn't been able to think about anything except this meeting since he received Dumbledore's note at breakfast; as a result, he arrived half-an-hour early and took to pacing back-and-forth in front of the stone gargoyle guarding the entrance to the headmaster's office. Fifteen minutes had passed, and when he couldn't take the tension any longer, Ron called out the password and climbed the spiral staircase.

"I would like to restate my earlier objections to this course of action, Mr. Weasley," the old professor said tiredly, "I fear that this will only serve as a distraction from your purpose here."

"We've been through this," Ron said, frowning grimly, "I've been here for three weeks now, and before I do anything else, I want to see what's happening back home. I have a right to know what's going on back there."

The aged headmaster heaved a great sigh and pushed himself to his feet. "Very well, Mr. Weasley; come with me."

Dumbledore led Ron over to a door that he had never known was there before…not that Ron had any great knowledge of what was and what wasn't contained within the old wizard's office.

Dumbledore waved his wand at the door and the sound of several locks being undone could be heard. Opening the door, the headmaster led Ron into a circular room lit only by a single candle. The only items of consequence in the room were a tall, gold-framed mirror and a chair sitting directly in front of the mirror.

"This mirror will show you what you need to see, Mr. Weasley," Dumbledore said gravely, "It will provide you with a glimpse of home and what has been transpiring there."

"I almost thought that was the Mirror of Erised standing there," Ron said, more to himself than to the old wizard standing next to him.

"You know of the Mirror of Erised?" Dumbledore asked, sounding surprised.

"Yeah…back in First Year," Ron said, nodding, "Harry found it one night and showed it to me."

"I see. Well, Mr. Weasley, this is the brother to the Mirror of Erised," the headmaster said, waving his hand in the direction of the mirror, "I give the Mirror of Ytissecen. Where the Mirror of Erised shows you your deepest desire, the Mirror of Ytissecen shows you what you _need_ to see."

"Right, well, I _need_ to see what's been going on back home," Ron said once more, moving towards the mirror.

"Very well then, Mr. Weasley; since you won't allow me to convince you otherwise…have a seat," the old wizard said, motioning towards the chair.

Ron took a seat in the chair facing the mirror and Dumbledore walked up and stood directly behind him. Ron looked concerned at the reflection of himself and the headmaster when the mirror didn't appear to be working.

"Will it work with you standing there?" Ron asked, "The Mirror of Erised only works with one person at a time…"

"Trust me, Mr. Weasley," Dumbledore replied.

Just then, their reflection faded from the mirror and an image appeared of King's Cross Station, complete with the hustle-and-bustle of Muggles moving about, trying to catch their trains. Ron had heard about films and television from Harry and Hermione, and although he'd never seen either one of those Muggle inventions, he had a feeling that they were similar to this.

The image of King's Cross Station shifted towards a blank stretch of wall between Platforms 9 and 10, and after a short loss of image, Ron found himself looking at Platform 9¾ as the Hogwarts Express pulled away from the station on its annual journey to Hogwarts on September First.

A disparate group of witches and wizards were standing around with disgruntled looks on their faces. Ron recognized them immediately as his parents and the members of the Order of the Phoenix who had served as escorts to the train station three weeks ago.

"That boy!" Ron's mother huffed angrily, "He's gone and missed the train! That's twice, now, that he's done it…and this time, he can't try blaming it on poor Harry."

"Molly, calm down," Ron's father said, patting his wife's arm.

"I will _not_ calm down, Arthur!" she snapped, "You let _your son_ out of your sight and now look: he's run off!"

"The boy's a disgrace," Mad-Eye Moody grumbled in his gravelly voice, "I never would've pegged you lot for raising a coward."

"You'd be surprised," Lupin laughed, "When I was his Defense teacher two years ago, I taught the class about boggarts; Ron's was a _spider_, of all things!"

Moody, Tonks, and Lupin laughed at this, and even Sirius – in his animagus form as a bear-like black dog – began barking in a manner that seemed to indicate laughter. Molly clucked her tongue disgustedly, shooting an angry glare at her husband.

"Afraid of spiders…honestly! He gets that from _your_ side of the family, Arthur. No self-respecting Prewett would be afraid of spiders."

"Yes, dear," Arthur agreed, sighing disheartenedly.

"Poor Harry," Molly said, her face and tone softening as she watched the scarlet train go 'round a bend and disappear from view, "I do hope having his best friend run away on him doesn't upset him too much. He's such a good boy; he doesn't deserve to have this sort of thing happen to him."

"Harry's brave and strong," Arthur said, placing a comforting arm around his wife, "Plus, he's got Hermione…what more could he need?"

"I'm telling you right now, Arthur, when that boy turns up, so help me, I'm going to box his ears so hard they'll be ringing for a month!" Molly said threateningly, "Abandoning Harry like that…I thought I raised him better than that."

"Molly, dear," Arthur said soothingly, "Let's not get worked up over this."

"Sometimes, Arthur," Molly said bitterly as they made to exit Platform 9¾, "I wish we could have skipped over Ronald and just gone right to having Ginny. That boy's been nothing but a disappointment."

"I know, dear," Arthur sighed.

"I wish Harry had been ours instead," Molly said as the couple disappeared from view, "Harry's a boy _any mother_ would be proud of."

The image shifted and, as Platform 9¾ faded away, the mirror was filled with an image of a train compartment onboard the Hogwarts Express that was currently occupied by Harry and Hermione.

"Can you believe that irresponsible idiot, Harry?" Hermione huffed angrily, "Missing the train of all things!"

Harry just shrugged, staring out the window.

"I can't believe Dumbledore made _him_ a prefect," Hermione continued to rant, "Ron Weasley has to be the most undeserving git in the history of Hogwarts!"

Harry shrugged again.

"Don't worry, Harry," Hermione said, her voice softening as she reached over and patted his hand comfortingly, "We'll talk to Dumbledore and make him see what a mistake he's made; we'll get you made a prefect before the Welcoming Feast is over!"

Harry brightened at that and finally spoke. "That'll be nice. I mean, I've done so much more than Ron…and everything _he's_ done has been while tagging along as my sidekick; so it only seems fair that _I_ get the recognition and not him."

"I agree," Hermione nodded, "Look at all that his brothers have accomplished, and all that Ron does is ride your coattails."

Harry nodded and went back to looking out the window at the passing scenery. Hermione pulled out a long roll of parchment and began writing.

"What's that you're writing?" Harry asked after several more minutes of staring out the window.

"A letter to Viktor," Hermione replied, her quill moving steadily over the parchment, "Without _Ronald_ around to bother me, I'm free to write to him in peace."

"Ron does become a git whenever you bring up Viktor," Harry chuckled, "I reckon he'd lose it if he knew you went to Bulgaria this summer."

"Especially since I convinced him that I didn't," Hermione said with a wry smile, "He would have been completely insufferable if he knew what a wonderful time I'd had with Viktor."

"I always thought Viktor was a pretty good guy," Harry admitted, "I reckon Ron was just jealous that _you_ got to spend all that time with his idol, while Viktor didn't even know _Ron's_ name."

"Not to mention that Viktor is everything that Ron isn't," Hermione chuckled, "Rich, famous, amazing at Quidditch…" Hermione spoke with a dreamy look on her face, "Plus he's sweet, romantic, and a really good kisser."

Harry laughed at her expression. "You're really into him, huh?"

"I had to tell _Ronald_ that we're just friends, though," Hermione said, frowning, "Being around him all summer is bad enough, but it's a million times worse when he has one of his little tantrums and goes off to pout. I tell you, Harry, if it wasn't for you and Ginny, I think I'd avoid spending summers with the Weasleys."

"I never did understand why you would want to visit with Ron's family," Harry said, shaking his head, "I mean, my family…the Dursleys, I mean…they're horrible, so staying with the Weasleys is like an escape. But you…your family is posh and you do things like holiday in France."

"That is true," Hermione said, "Staying with the Weasleys is sometimes like roughing it – what with sleeping on a camp bed in Ginny's room and the lack of Muggle conveniences."

"It's not so bad for me," Harry shrugged, "The camp bed's not really comfortable, but I never really got to watch the telly or use Dudley's computer or video games…you don't miss what you never had."

"I suppose that's true," Hermione nodded.

They lulled into silence again, with Harry returning his somber gaze to the landscape whizzing by outside the window and Hermione pouring all her concentration into her letter. The food trolley appeared and, amidst an orgy of sweets, the two best friends started talking again. The massive amounts of sweets must have reminded Harry of his redheaded best friend, because Ron, once again, became the subject of discussion.

"If Ron decides not to come back from wherever it is he's scarpered off to, there is one thing I'm going to miss about him."

"What's that?" Hermione asked as she swallowed a bite of her Cauldron Cake.

"Ron might not have been good for much, but he was always willing to take a bullet…or a spell, as the case may be…for me," Harry bit the head off his Chocolate Frog and frowned, "With Voldemort back, it was nice knowing I was being followed around by someone who would jump in front of a Killing Curse if I needed him to."

"I'm willing to do that for you, Harry," Hermione said sincerely.

"I appreciate that, Hermione," Harry said, "But with your brains, you're too valuable to sacrifice."

"Aww…thanks, Harry," she said, blushing.

"It would have been okay to sacrifice Ron," he went on, "He's just…"

"Nothing," Harry and Hermione said in unison, sharing a smile.

The train compartment faded away only to be replaced by the Gryffindor common room, where Harry was gazing at himself in a mirror, admiring the shiny new prefect's badge pinned to his robes.

"Are you ready for our very first patrol, Prefect Potter?" Hermione asked excitedly, smiling as she sat perched on the arm of a chair absentmindedly stroking Crookshanks.

"Ready when you are, Prefect Granger," Harry said, returning her smile.

The two prefects made their way towards the portrait hole, just as it opened up and Ginny crawled through.

"You made it back just in time, Gin," Hermione said teasingly, "Curfew just started and of we had caught you outside the common room, we'd have taken points."

Ginny rolled her eyes and stuck out her tongue; a gesture that Hermione immediately returned before both girls broke into laughter.

"Sorry, Hermione," Ginny said as she flopped down into a nearby chair, "I had to reply to Mum's owl from this morning, and Pig just didn't want to cooperate – stupid bird. I hope you don't mind, Harry, but I borrowed Hedwig."

"No worries, Gin," Harry said, smiling at her, "I'm sure she was happy to deliver your letter."

"Has there been any sign of your stupid brother, yet?" Hermione asked bitterly.

"Not according to Mum's owl," Ginny said, shaking her head, "She says, if he shows up here, I'm supposed to tell him not to bother unpacking. Mum's going to home-school him this year and make him take the OWLs at the Ministry with the other home-schooled types."

"It's been a week," Harry said, "Does she really think he's going to show up here?"

"Not really," Ginny said, shaking her head again, "But just in case, you know? Mum doesn't want Ron escaping his punishment when he finally turns up."

"Well, I think we're well shot of him," Hermione huffed, "If this is the sort of thing Ron is capable of then we don't need him."

"It's not all bad though," Ginny said, beaming, "Mum told me that I could go ahead and take Ron's new broom for my own; he won't be needing it once he turns up."

"Good one, Gin," Harry smiled, "That Cleansweep is no Firebolt, but it's decent enough. You should try out for the Quidditch team."

"Nah," Ginny said, waving him off, "The only open position was Keeper, and Geoffrey Hooper got that. Maybe if something happens to you or one of the Chasers, Harry, then I'll try out."

"So, you're betting on me getting injured, then?" Harry said, arching an eyebrow at her.

"Historically speaking, it's a safe bet," Ginny replied with a cheeky smirk.

"Cheers, Gin!" Harry laughed.

"We really should be going," Hermione said, checking her watch, "We're already five minutes late."

"Don't wait up!" Harry said to Ginny, waving as he made to crawl through the portrait hole.

"Try not to snog in any empty classrooms," Ginny said with a wink.

"No promises," Hermione teased as they left the common room.

The image wavered slightly; it was still the common room, but it was now morning, and Harry, Hermione, and Ginny were seated at a table piled with presents. The remaining fifth years were standing around them.

"Happy birthday, Hermione!" everyone called out together, making Hermione beam from ear-to-ear.

"Thanks, everybody," the birthday-girl replied happily.

"Time to open prezzies!!" Ginny called out, handing Hermione a brightly-wrapped package.

Hermione quickly made short work of the presents on the table: a book, _Attracting the Attractive (How to Win a Wizard Worth Winning)_, from Ginny; another book, _Ancient Runes in Modern Wizarding Society (Why Should We Care?)_, from Harry; yet another book, _Flora Fantasica (A Magical Herbological Encyclopedia)_, from Neville; a box of magical makeup and hair-care products from Lavender and Parvati; a selection of Honeydukes sweets from Dean and Seamus; a leather-bound set of Shakespeare's collected works and sugar-free sweets from her parents, along with a care package of dental hygiene products.

Soon enough, only one package remained on the table. It was crudely wrapped and oddly shaped and Hermione looked down at it with confusion.

"I found that in Ron's trunk before we sent his stuff home," Ginny explained, "I have no idea what it is, but it had your name on it."

"It certainly doesn't look like a _book_," Hermione said, frowning. She quickly ripped the paper aside, revealing a small brown plush otter.

"Eww! What is _that_?!" Lavender screeched.

"It looks like a _rat_!" Parvati exclaimed, "Why would Ron give you a _rat_?!"

"Who knows what goes through my stupid brother's thick head," Ginny sighed, "It's probably some sort of reminder of that whole business with Scabbers two years ago."

Hermione turned the otter over and over in her hands, a pensive look on her face, as though she were trying to figure out the meaning behind the stuffed animal. She was frowning, and it was uncertain whether or not she liked the gift.

A sudden taping at the window drew everyone's attention to where a large black owl sat on the ledge, beckoning for entrance. Seamus opened the window, allowing the owl to fly to the room and drop a package in front of Hermione before flying right back out the way it came.

"It's from Viktor!" Hermione exclaimed excitedly. She then tossed the plush otter aside, where it inadvertently landed on the floor and was immediately pounced on by Crookshanks. The sound of the otter's fabric being ripped into by the ginger cat's claws and teeth was quickly joined by the sound of Hermione ripping the paper off Viktor's package. "Oh. My. God!"

Lavender, Parvati, and even Ginny – though only slightly – squealed appreciatively at Hermione's latest gift: an antique diamond necklace that must have cost a fortune.

"I can't believe he did this!" Hermione said, shocked as she gazed longingly at the necklace, "Viktor showed me this when I was visiting him this summer; it's a family heirloom…made by goblin craftsmen. Viktor told me the necklace is passed down in his family to the firstborn son on his seventeenth birthday, and he gives the necklace to the woman he intends to marry."

"Viktor just proposed to you?" Ginny gasped.

"I think so," Hermione said dreamily.

"That is so romantic!" Lavender and Parvati gushed in perfect harmony.

"What are you going to say?" Harry asked.

"What do _you_ think?" Hermione replied, nervously clasping the necklace around her neck before jumping to her feet, "I need to owl Viktor right away!"

Hermione bolted up the stairs to her dorm, completely ignoring the pile of shredded fabric and fluff that had once been a little stuffed otter.

"That's enough," Ron croaked, his voice cracking, "I don't need to see anymore of that rubbish."

The images in the mirror disappeared, once more leaving only the reflection of himself and Dumbledore. Ron felt sick as he took in what he had seen. That couldn't possibly be the way his family and friends reacted to his disappearance; they didn't really think those things about him…did they?

"I am sorry that you had to see that, Mr. Weasley," Dumbledore said, moving to stand by the door, as if ready to leave the room, "Though I _did_ try to talk you out of it."

"Do you really expect me to believe that…that _shite_?!" Ron snapped, jumping to his feet. He felt exhausted and was more than a little worried that his knees might give out, but he couldn't remain seated for one more instant, "You _honestly_ expect me to believe that my friends…my _family_…think that about me? That all I'm good for is sacrificing myself for Harry? That my own _mother_ wishes I was n-never b-born?" Saying those words were difficult, and Ron couldn't help but stumble over them.

"Mr. Weasley, can _you_ honestly tell _me_ that no one has ever doubted that you were good enough?" Dumbledore asked, fixing him with a steely gaze, "When you received your prefect's badge, perhaps; did no one doubt that you were deserving?"

Ron looked away, unable to meet Dumbledore's gaze. He knew the answer…he knew that the old wizard was right. Nobody thought he was good enough.

"Have you never felt inadequate around your friends or siblings?" Dumbledore asked, continuing to make Ron feel worse, "Surely those feeling must have been based on something…"

"Alright, that's enough," Ron said softly, feeling completely broken. He felt ready to collapse and leaned heavily on the chair for support, "I need to get out of here."

"I did warn you that seeing the events in your home dimension would be a distraction, Ronald," the headmaster said, "Perhaps it would be best to forget about your world for the time being and concentrate on the here-and-now."

"Yeah…sure…whatever…" Ron said weakly. He was fighting a losing battle against his emotions. The last thing he wanted to do was break down in front of his headmaster.

"I think, perhaps, this situation calls for a nice cup of tea," Dumbledore said with a smile, "Come, Mr. Weasley."

"Tea?" Ron said confusedly in a voice he didn't quite recognize as his own.

"Yes, Mr. Weasley," Dumbledore nodded, moving over and taking hold of Ron's elbow so as to escort him out of the room, "I often find a nice cup of Earl Grey helps clear my head…and perhaps a tasty blueberry scone; you'll be right as rain."

"Yeah, alright," Ron agreed numbly.

The headmaster escorted him back out into the office-proper and led him back over to the chair in front of his desk. Unsurprisingly, a china tea service was laid out neatly on the aging wizard's desktop alongside a plate of warm blueberry scones.

Ron drank the tea and ate the scones, but he did so without really registering what he was doing. His mind was in a fog and he couldn't concentrate; all he wanted to do was lay down and sleep for a week.

"I know you really don't need me bringing up what you just saw in the Mirror of Ytissecen, Ronald," Dumbledore said in a soothing voice, "But I feel I must remind you: whatever the views of your friends and family back home, you are very much needed _here_. Perhaps that is something to think about when thoughts of home weigh heavily upon your weary mind."

"I suppose," Ron said automatically, though he really wasn't sure what they were talking about at the moment.

"I think, perhaps, a good night's sleep will do a world of wonder for you, Ronald," Dumbledore said in a voice that sounded increasingly far away, "I think it's time you returned to Gryffindor Tower."

"'Kay," Ron mumbled.

He was unaware as to how or when he returned to the Gryffindor common room and then made his way up to the fifth year boys' dorm. All he knew was that he was in the warm comfort of his bed and darkness was rapidly consuming his overwrought mind.

* * *

"Come on, Ron…get up! You need to stop oversleeping!"

Ron awoke in his four-poster bed to Neville leaning over him, calling out in frustration as he prodded and shook Ron in an attempt to rouse him from his slumber.

"'M up…" Ron mumbled as he struggled to sit up, "Whatime'sit?"

"Let me put it this way," Neville said as he checked his reflection in the mirror and began combing his hair, "By the time you get up and get dressed, you'll have about ten minutes left to eat breakfast before you're late for the Hogsmeade queue."

"Hogsmeade?" Ron exclaimed, shocked and confused, "What day is it?"

"I thought that would be fairly obvious since it's a Hogsmeade weekend and all," Neville said with a cheeky grin, "It's Saturday."

"I meant the date, you wanker!" Ron grumbled as he got to his feet and began changing out of his pajamas.

"October Fifth," Neville said, flashing Ron an odd look, "I know you've been out of it for the last two weeks, but don't tell me you're going to miss out on the first Hogsmeade visit!"

Ron quickly pulled on his clothes, losing himself in his thoughts as he did so. He _had_ been out of it, just like Neville said. Ever since his meeting with Dumbledore two weeks ago, nothing seemed to matter to him anymore. He'd drifted through his day-to-day life, not paying particular attention to any_one_ or any_thing_.

He'd had very little say to anyone during the course of those two weeks; especially Hermione. Even when they were alone, doing their patrols, he didn't talk to her. Her very presence, moreso than anyone else's, was completely and horribly painful to him.

More than anyone else, Hermione reminded him of home and of the devastating look through the Mirror of Ytissecen he had taken. His friends…his family…all thought he was nothing…useless…a disappointment and a disgrace.

He tried not to believe the mirror. After all, who would possibly believe the people they loved secretly despised them? However, the more he listened to Dumbledore talk, the more he believed it, and for the last two weeks what he had seen in the Mirror of Ytissecen ate away at him.

"Ron!"

Ron looked up, brought out of his thoughts by Neville shouting his name. The round-faced boy was standing by the dorm's exit, looking expectantly at Ron.

"Merlin's beard, Ron; don't tell me you're going to start zoning out again!" Neville said impatiently, "Come on, mate…it's Hogsmeade!!"

Ron waved him off and finished getting dressed, doing his best not to get lost in his thoughts again. Soon enough, the two boys were making their way down to the common room. As they descended the stone staircase, Ron couldn't help noticing that Neville was dressed a bit nicer than usual.

"What're you all dressed up for, Nev? It's only Hogsmeade," Ron said with a smirk.

"We talked about this, Ron," Neville sighed, rolling his eyes, "I'm meeting Ginny at two for our date. You told me you were okay with this."

"Sorry, Nev," Ron said glumly, "I reckon I was out of it when we talked about it."

Neville took a deep breath. "Is this going to be a problem, Ron?"

Ron looked away. "No, Nev; it's fine. Have fun…just be sure and treat her right."

"I will; I promise," Neville said, clapping him on the shoulder, "But, look…my date with Ginny…that's this afternoon. This morning, it's all about you and me, yeah? We'll have plenty of fun on our own."

"You're right, Nev," Ron replied, offering Neville a weak smile. His heart really wasn't into visiting Hogsmeade, but it seemed a better option than being cooped up in the castle driving himself crazy.

Fifteen minutes later, Ron and Neville were queued up, waiting for Filch to check their names off the list of students permitted to travel to the nearby village. They were at the back of the line, and Ron figured they were the last ones to leave the castle on the way to Hogsmeade. He was proven wrong, however, when a girl with brown hair queued up behind them.

Ron spared a glance over his shoulder at the girl and had to do a double-take. The brown-haired girl was Hermione, but she was looking as _un_-Hermione-ish as Ron had ever seen her before in his entire life.

Hermione's normally bushy hair was done up in a manner reminiscent of the Yule Ball, looking sleek with a few curly strands framing her face. She wore makeup, which Ron wasn't sure he had ever seen her wear before. Had her lips ever been _that_ red before? The capper, however, for Hermione's uncharacteristic appearance were the robes she wore.

The robes were a deep scarlet and made of some sort of material that hugged her curves…curves that Ron was fairly sure had always been covered up by baggy school robes before. The most shocking feature of the robes, however, was the V-shaped neckline that plunged down showing off cleavage that Ron was sure had never seen the light of day before.

"What the Hell are you wearing?!" Ron blurted out, completely tactlessly. He took off his worn, frayed traveling cloak – a hand-me-down from Bill – and made to wrap it around her, "Cover yourself!"

"I beg your pardon?!" Hermione snapped, stepping away from him, "You have no business telling me what to do!"

"But, you look like a --…" Ron began, looking concerned.

"Like a _what_?!" Hermione snapped, glaring at him.

"You look…err…_nice_, Hermione," Neville said, blushing, "Are those the robes that Viktor gave you for your birthday?"

"Yes, they are," Hermione said, ignoring Ron and smiling at Neville, "Since he's meeting me in Hogsmeade today, he told me to wear them so he could see how they looked on me."

"Krum gave you those?" Ron exclaimed, unable to believe his ears, "He _wants_ you to walk around Hogsmeade looking like a scarlet woman?!"

"A _what_?!" Hermione laughed.

"You heard me," Ron said, glaring.

"Ron…" Neville said warningly.

"Well, for your information, Ron Weasley, Neville thinks I look _nice_, Lavender and Parvati said I look _pretty_, and Seamus and Dean actually _whistled at me_! The only person who _doesn't_ like the way I look is _you_! And you know what? Your opinion doesn't matter…only Viktor's does! So why don't you just go back to ignoring me like you've done for the last two weeks?!"

Before another word could be said, Hermione pushed past Ron and Neville and forced her way to the front of the queue. She stomped off in a huff once Filch checked her name off his list and allowed her to go through the gates.

"Nice one, Ron," Neville sighed, shaking his head.

"Shut it, Neville," Ron snapped, glaring at his friend.

* * *

**Author's End Notes: **And there you have it...Ron's look back home. I'm sure many of you are up in arms about it...but, hey, this story is a long way from over, and all of the bits and pieces that don't seem to fit together will make sense once the whole of the puzzle has been assembled.

Next chapter is up in 2 weeks. See you then!


	19. Reflected Anger

**Author's Notes****:** Okay, well, I have been trying to post this damn chapter since 8:30 PM Friday, but the FanFiction site just didn't want to let me put it up (called it a "Processing Error"). I reckon they must be run by some pinko Commie bastards (and if you happen to _be_ a pinko Commie bastard, no offense)! Well, if you're reading this, I must have eventually got the damn thing posted, yeah? So, I guess there's no harm done (unless some of you out there had some sort of "episode" because your bi-weekly dose of _**Mirror, Mirror**_ didn't come along as scheduled – I've been watching too many British movies…as I typed the word "schedule", in my head I heard it pronounced "shedule").

Do any of you out there know what next Friday is? One year ago this coming Friday, I posted the very first chapter of _**Mirror, Mirror**_ up here on the ol' FF site. February 5th, 2010 will be the One Year Anniversary of this story!

Now, I've never had a story take more than a year to post (be glad I don't take more than a year to _UPDATE_, like some authors out there); my very first multi-chapter story (_**Aftermath**_) was done in just under five months…of course, I posted something like the first 32 chapters of that story in one month, so that's why that one ended so (relatively) quick. So, since it's been (almost) an entire year, I wanted to do something special for the One Year Anniversary of _**Mirror, Mirror**_ getting started. More on _what_ I intend to do at the _end_ of the story.

For now, however, I hope you enjoy this chapter, where Ron has probably the worst Hogsmeade visit he's ever had in his life. I guess you'll just have to read on to actually see what I mean. And stay tuned…Ron's descent into the Chamber of Secrets is coming! I'm not really sure which chapter it will happen, but I can say with confidence that it will happen in either Chapter 21 or Chapter 22 (probably the latter).

**Thanks****: **As usual, I want to offer my gratitude to all those valiant souls out there who've taken the time and made the effort to post reviews for this story. The story surpassed the 400 review mark last chapter (people were _very vocal_ about the whole Mirror of Ytissecen business), and is well on its way to 500. I can hardly wait.

**Special Thanks****:** And, also as usual, I want to say a heartfelt "ta" to my beta, CutewithAcapital-Q who does an excellent job helping me to fine tune this story. Thanks, Cute stuff!

**Disclaimer****:** And now the final bit of bluster before we actually get to the reason you all came; I don't own any of this rubbish…it's all J.K. Rowling's, the world's first Billionaire Writer.

**One Final Thing: **Out of frustrationg with the "Processing Error" on FF, I posted this chapter on my LiveJournal last night. Some of you may have read it there, and if you did, I hope you enjoyed it. I also hope that, if you read it there, you'll still swing by and give me a review here (for those of you who are inclined to review).

* * *

_**MIRROR, MIRROR  
**_**Chapter 19  
**"**Reflected Anger"**

Following the blow-up with Hermione, Ron and Neville waited to be cycled through the queue for Hogsmeade in uncomfortable silence. Ron kept glaring off in the direction that Hermione had gone and Neville just continued to look anywhere but at his friend. Soon enough, they were allowed through the gates by Mr. Filch and they proceeded down the road to Hogsmeade. The silence continued until they reached the village, when Neville finally spoke up.

"Nothing quite like a visit to Hogsmeade, eh Ron?" Neville asked with a smile as they made their way through the village square, "So what do you want to do first…Zonko's or Honeydukes?"

"Doesn't matter to me," Ron said, shrugging. If he were honest, he would have told Neville that he didn't even want to come to Hogsmeade in the first place. The only reason he agreed to come was because sitting in the castle was an even worse option.

"You're usually a bit more excited about the first Hogsmeade trip, Ron," Neville interrupted his thoughts and brought Ron back to the matter at hand, "I've never seen you brood so much. Do you want to tell me what's bothering you now, or do you want to keep pretending that something's _not_ eating at you?"

"Are those my only two options?" Ron asked, snorting derisively and drawing a smirk from his companion.

"I know how you are, Ron," Neville said, his smirk blooming into a smile as he slapped Ron on the back, "When you don't want to talk about something, you become such a bastard that it's much easier from the start to just pretend nothing's wrong."

"In that case," Ron replied, looking off into the distance, "Let's drop it already."

A few moments of awkward silence passed between the two teenagers before Neville spoke up again. "So…Zonko's or Honeydukes?"

Ron looked down and sighed, shaking his head. "Honeydukes; I could use some chocolate."

The pair moved down the street to the crowded sweets shop. They had to struggle to get inside the building, as it seemed as though every Hogwarts student allowed to be in Hogsmeade was, at that moment, inside Honeydukes.

Despite the sweet-tooth paradise that was Honeydukes, Ron's heart just wasn't in it. Ordinarily, he'd be happy to wander around the shop for hours, taking in all the sights and smells of the Wizarding world's premiere confectionary shop, but today he just wanted to get in and get out. There were too many people around, and while he didn't fancy the idea of being stuck inside the castle with just his thoughts to drive him mental, he didn't like the idea of being surrounded by so many happy people while he was bloody miserable.

Deciding to forego ogling the sweets he could not afford, Ron grabbed a box of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans and a handful of Chocolate Frogs and made his way immediately to the counter in order to pay for his sweets and then leave, secure in the knowledge that Neville would catch him up at some point.

Unfortunately for Ron, he wasn't the only one ready to pay for his purchases; a shopping basket stuffed full of sweets and a head full of platinum-blonde hair told Ron that he should have waited a bit before queuing up to check out. Before he could move out of line, however, that nearly-white head turned and Ron found himself glaring into the pointy-chinned face of Draco Malfoy.

"Why, hello, Weaselbee!" Malfoy said brightly with a wicked gleam in his cold, grey eyes, "Doing your family's food shopping for the month are you?"

"Sod off, Malfoy," Ron said through gritted teeth. He didn't want to rise to Malfoy's bait inside the crowded store, but he knew it would be nearly impossible to keep his temper in check for much longer; his emotions were too raw and close to the surface right now.

"That's not very friendly, Weasel," Malfoy quipped, grinning maliciously, "Didn't your fat lump-of-a-mother teach you to be nice…especially to your betters?"

A growl rose in his throat and Ron dropped the meager handful of candy he was going to buy as he reared back with his fist, ready to make Malfoy pay for that comment. Seeing what was coming his way, the Slytherin boy slipped his hand inside his robe pocket and brought out his wand, a painful and potentially fatal hex already forming on his lips.

"Oy! There'll be none of that nonsense in here!" Ambrosius Flume, the shop's proprietor yelled, "You want to duel, you take it outside!!"

"I'd watch my back if I were you, Weasel," Malfoy said with a laugh, "You won't always be in such a crowded place." Malfoy paid for his basket full of sweets and left the shop, leaving Ron standing at the counter, glaring hatefully at his retreating form, his handful of sweets lying at his feet. Neville came up and patted him on the shoulder, bringing Ron back to his senses.

"Come on, Ron," Neville said, crouching down to pick up Ron's candy and deposit it in his own basket piled high with sweets, "There are more shops for us to visit. No need to ruin a perfectly good Hogsmeade trip just because of a run-in with that jumped-up evil git."

Neville paid for their candy and they left Honeydukes. They walked the streets of Hogsmeade in silence for several minutes until Neville once again spoke up.

"My Gran says it doesn't matter how many galleons a person is worth," he said nervously, as the Weasleys' financial status was a well-known sore spot with Ron, "What really matters is the worthiness of their character. She says she'd rather be friends with people like your parents than with a thousand people like the Malfoys."

"Your Gran…" Ron began angrily, his head snapping up to glare fiercely at Neville. He was about to say something along the lines of, _"Your Gran is a hag who needs to mind her own sodding business!"_, but seeing the look on Neville's face and the sincerity in his eyes, Ron stopped himself. "Your Gran's a nice lady, Nev. And she's got a pretty good bloke for a grandson."

Neville smiled brightly at this and Ron clapped him on the shoulder.

"Come on, mate," Ron said, sounding more cheerful than he felt, "Let's check out the Quidditch shop; they have some Keeper gloves I can't afford that I want to drool over."

Ron knew there was a chance that he'd run into Malfoy again in the Quidditch shop, but he couldn't let that albino little ferret ruin his day. Not when so many other things were conspiring to do just that. Unbeknownst to Ron, one of those things was currently inside the Quidditch shop.

The Hogsmeade Quidditch shop, Quaffle Stop, wasn't anywhere near as large as Quality Quidditch Supply in Diagon Alley, and it didn't carry nearly as much merchandise as the larger store; however, it was the only store of its kind in the village and with four school teams and countless other Quidditch aficionados amongst the student body, the store did a fair business. Even so, the Quidditch shop wasn't nearly as crowded as the sweets shop had been, and Ron could see almost right away that Malfoy was _not_ inside. What surprised him, however, was that Hermione _was_.

She looked bored and unhappy and kept fidgeting with her hair and tugging up on the neckline of her robes. It was obvious she was uncomfortable in the uncharacteristic clothing she had on, and Ron was tempted to walk over and gloat.

"I think the gloves are over this way," Neville said, bringing Ron out of his thoughts as he walked down an aisle full of leather pads and protective gear.

Ron followed his friend, although he really didn't care; looking at Quidditch supplies…doing _anything_, really…had lost all interest for Ron, and all he really wanted to do was go somewhere private and brood in peace. This instinct became more pronounced when Ron heard a familiar, much-hated voice.

"I haff found vot I vos looking for, Herm-own-ninny. Ve can go now."

Ron's head snapped around so fast he nearly got a crick in his neck as he saw none other than Viktor Krum lumbering towards Hermione, a Barney Boom's Broom Booster – a high-end broom upgrading kit – tucked securely under his arm. Hermione smiled as the Bulgarian approached her, and that made Ron scowl hatefully.

"You really do look vunderful in those robes, Herm-own-ninny," Krum said, allowing his eyes to roam up and down Hermione's body as he put his arm around her, "You should vare more things that show off your figure."

"What the bloody Hell is _he_ doing here?" Ron growled as Neville moved back to his side to see why the redhead hadn't followed him.

Neville followed Ron's gaze to see what exactly it was that he was growling about now.

"Viktor?" Neville replied, "He came to visit Hermione. You _heard_ us talking about that up at the gates, Ron."

Ron's eyes narrowed as he watched Hermione and Viktor clasp hands and walk towards the checkout queue. "Doesn't make it any easier to stomach," Ron grumbled.

"So Hermione is dating your Quidditch idol," Neville said, shrugging, "Big deal. Let's go look at those gloves. I still want to hit _The Three Broomsticks_ for a warm Butterbeer before I go off on my date with Ginny."

"What can she possibly see in him?!" Ron asked, unable to understand Hermione's attraction to the Bulgarian.

"I don't know; he's rich, famous, older, and more mature…who knows what it could be?" Neville said, flashing Ron a knowing smile as he turned towards a nearby rack of Quidditch magazines and began flipping through them, "Why…are you jealous?"

"I'm not jealous," Ron snapped as he watched the couple leave the shop, "I just think she's too good for _that_ pumpkin-headed git, that's all."

A sharp bark of laughter drew Ron's attention back to Neville who stood there with a bemused look on his face. "Are you ready to admit that you fancy her, yet?"

"No," Ron said flatly. He turned on his heel and made his way down the aisle away from Neville. He stopped when he reached the Keeper's gloves and feigned interest in the hopes that Neville would stop talking about Hermione.

"Come on, Ron, it's okay to like her," Neville said, catching up to Ron, "You don't have to pretend on my account…I'm not into Hermione anymore."

"See you back at the castle, Nev," Ron said as he walked past the dumbfounded boy and made his way out of the shop. The last thing he needed was to listen to Neville bang on and on about Hermione. Whether he fancied her or not…and Ron was not willing to admit to either one…nothing could develop between them; this was not Ron's world and he would, theoretically be going home eventually. The fact that the Hermione Grangers of both worlds preferred Viktor Krum to him was just too depressing for Ron to think about.

Ron was just reaching the outskirts of Hogsmeade when a noise in the woods off to the side of the road drew his attention. It was the sound of a twig snapping, as if stepped on by a heavy foot. Snapping twigs weren't unusual for the forest, and Ron probably wouldn't have even heard it or paid it any mind if all of the _natural_ sounds one expects to hear in a woodsy setting – birds chirping, small animals chittering and scurrying through the brush and tree branches – weren't completely absent.

It was a really eerie feeling; unnerved by the unnatural silence and the sudden snapping twig, Ron whirled around to face the forest, his wand in his hand and already pointing towards the trees. He stood there for over a minute with the hairs on the back of his neck standing up and a nervous, anxious feeling crawling up-and-down his spine.

When he saw nothing and heard no other sounds of movement, Ron put his wand away…though the uncomfortable feeling of being watched remained. Ron had just turned his attention back to the road leading to Hogwarts when a chorus of voices called out at the same time.

_"EXPELLIARMUS!!"_

Ron managed to turn just in time to see three bolts of energy streak out of the woods a split second before all three slammed into his chest. The last thing Ron remembered before everything went black was the oddly thrilling sensation of flying through the air without the aid of a broom, and then having that sensation cut painfully short as the back of his head crashed at great speed into something that felt agonizingly tree-like.

* * *

_"He really _is_ lazy, isn't he?"_

_"You're telling me! Look at him just lying there, pretending to be injured. Slacker!"_

_Ron looked up to see two Hermione Grangers looking down at him disapprovingly. They were both obviously Hermione, but they weren't identical. The one on the left looked every bit the Hermione he remembered with her bushy hair and school robes, while the one on the right had her hair done up, wore makeup, and was dressed in clothing that complimented her body in a way that was obviously meant to attract male attention._

_"Hermione…?"_

_"Well-spotted, Ronald," the one on the left scoffed._

_"He really is thick, isn't he?" Right-side Hermione asked with disdain, "Lazy and stupid! No wonder he let himself be attacked."_

_"Well, he always was more of a sacrificial pawn than a heroic knight," Left-side Hermione said, talking about him like he wasn't even there._

_"I suppose that's why his brother had to save me from the troll," the Right one said, sighing and shaking her head, her eyes full of scorn._

_"Ooh, which brother?" cooed the Left one, "Oh, I don't suppose it matters, really…all of his brothers are so much better than him!"_

_"It was the one with glasses," Right Hermione replied, "It was Percy."_

_"Percy's the best of the whole lot!" Left Hermione exclaimed dreamily, "Prefect, then Head Boy, and now Junior Assistant to the Minister himself; Percy's got intelligence and ambition…unlike Ronald…and Percy has power. I've always been attracted to power."_

_"Fame is attractive, too," chimed in the Hermione-on-the-right, "Like our boyfriend, Viktor Krum; he's rich and famous and talented _and_ he's an International Quidditch star. Ronald will never be _any_ of those things."_

_"Do you know what _isn't_ attractive?" Hermione-on-the-left asked. The question seemed to be aimed at her double, but her eyes – which seemed unusually cruel – were focused directly on him, "Stupid, lazy redheads who were only chosen to be prefect because their best friend had more important things to worry about."_

_"I agree; he's probably the most unattractive thing I've ever seen," Right-hand-Hermione laughed, her makeup-highlighted eyes shining with the same cruelty, "I wish he'd go away."_

_"At least your world's Ron Weasley had the courtesy to die; this one won't take the hint!" Left-hand-Hermione remarked, scowling wickedly, "He needs to snuff-it already so I can have Harry all to myself."_

_"Yeah, Ron…cark it, already!"_

_Two Harry Potters now came into view, their green eyes flashing evilly. The Harry-on-the-left had a head of shaggy hair and looked just as Ron remembered him. The Harry-on-the-right had slicked-back hair reminiscent of Draco Malfoy and his lips were drawn up in a vicious smirk._

_"Once you're out of the way, Dumbledore can give me _my_ prefect badge back," Left-hand Harry sneered, "And Hermione can give me _all_ her attention; I hate having to share her with you."_

_"Everyone is better off without you, Weasel," Right-hand Harry added, "You had the good sense to die on our world and look: Granger's free to date Krum and I'm able to enjoy my wealth without feeling guilty."_

_Ron glared up at the two Harrys and then his eyes widened as all four of the people standing over him took out their wands and spoke in unison:_

_"Why don't you just die? Die! DIE!!"_

_Flashes of green light leapt forth from each of the wands and rocketed straight towards Ron._

Ron's eyes flew open and he found himself gasping for air. He tried to sit up, but the sudden explosion of pain that seemed to start in his head and quickly extend to the rest of his body followed by rapid-fire white flashes behind his eyes convinced Ron to lay back down. His head was swimming now and he felt dizzy and slightly nauseous.

"Try not to move, Mr. Weasley," came a voice from across the room. Having spent plenty of time in the school's hospital wing as either a patient or a visitor, Ron recognized the voice of the school matron, Madam Pomfrey, right away.

"Wuh happened?" Ron asked groggily.

He was having a hard time getting his eyes to focus, but Ron felt it was pretty obvious at this point that he was lying in one of the beds in the hospital wing. His whole body was sore and Ron felt as if an entire herd of hippogriffs had trampled him.

"I was hoping you could tell me," Madam Pomfrey said as she moved over to stand next to his bed, "You were found lying unconscious in a ditch on the side of the road leading to Hogsmeade."

"What?!" Ron tried to sit up and question the school nurse, but she placed a firm hand on his chest in order to keep him lying down.

"Don't move, Mr. Weasley," Madam Pomfrey said, her voice stern, "You've suffered several broken bones and a good deal of head trauma, and sudden movements could exacerbate the injury."

"Zazzerbate, right," Ron mumbled, barely intelligibly as he sank his head back into the pillow, "'M dizzy…"

"To be expected," Madam Pomfrey replied, "Now, lie still while I fetch the potions you'll need to take."

Ron closed his eyes, hoping the dizziness would lessen in the process. It didn't work, however, and Ron found himself overcome with a powerful wave of nausea.

"Gonna…vomit…" Ron groaned as he felt his stomach coming undone. He started to roll over onto his side – not wanting to throw up on himself – when suddenly Madam Pomfrey was back at his side.

"Drink this quickly, Mr. Weasley," the nurse said, pushing a potion to his lips, "It will settle your stomach and reduce the dizziness."

Madam Pomfrey helped him to sit up, taking great care to make sure that his movements were slow and measured. He downed the potion rather shakily, but as soon as he did, the queasiness was gone.

"Thanks…" Ron muttered as he tried to lie on his back again.

"One moment, Mr. Weasley, there are other potions I need to administer," the nurse informed him, setting half-a-dozen potion bottles down on the bedside table. Ron groaned and rolled his eyes, wishing he hadn't regained consciousness.

When he had downed the various potions (one for blood replenishing, one to reduce pain and bruising, one to strengthen the bones that had been mended by the nurse's wand, one to reduce cranial swelling, one for over-all health and wellness while his body healed, and one a dreamless sleep draught so he could rest and allow his body to mend), Ron laid back and was just starting to doze off.

"Mr. Weasley, if you're so inclined, I thought you might like to have a visitor," Madam Pomfrey said, bringing him out of his near-slumber, "I wouldn't ordinarily allow visitors until you've had some rest…but he'll be leaving shortly, and he is rather famous in Quidditch circles – and I know how much Quidditch matters to young men – and he did save your life."

Ron slowly moved to a somewhat sitting position. The sleep draught he'd taken was well on its way to working. He cast a drowsy look towards the silhouette of the visitor walking around the curtained partition that gave him some privacy. His eyes went wide as the last person he'd ever expected came walking into view: Viktor Krum. At that point the Dreamless Sleep Draught kicked in and Ron fell into darkness.

* * *

Ron wasn't sure how long he had been out; that was the thing with Dreamless Sleep Draught – with no dreams to pass the time while you're unconscious, it seems as if you're only out for a moment before waking up feeling completely refreshed. Ron did notice that it was now light outside, and he was fairly certain it had been dark when he took the potion.

Ron thought, perhaps, he might have been hallucinating when he had come to in the hospital wing, prior to being given the various potions to help heal his injuries. He remembered Madam Pomfrey saying something about Viktor Krum saving his life, but that _had_ to be some sort of delusional episode caused by his head trauma; after all, there's no way the universe was cruel enough to play a sick joke like _that_ on him: owing his life to Viktor-sodding-Krum? No way!

"Ah, Mr. Weasley…you're up," Madam Pomfrey said as she bustled into view carrying a tray of potions, "The headmaster has been waiting to speak with you."

The matron administered the potions and presented Ron with porridge and toast for breakfast before she tottered off to retrieve Professor Dumbledore. Ron had already wolfed down his meager breakfast in the two minutes it took Dumbledore to arrive – not surprising, considering Ron hadn't eaten since breakfast the previous day.

"You're looking quite a bit better than you did yesterday," the old wizard said as he came to stand by Ron's bed, "I'm glad to see you're doing so well, Mr. Weasley."

"Reckon I was unconscious last time you saw me," Ron grumbled.

"Quite," Dumbledore agreed, "Do you remember what happened to you, Mr. Weasley?"

"_Before_ or _after_ I was attacked on my way back from Hogsmeade?" Ron asked bitterly.

"Did you see who attacked you?" Dumbledore asked, ignoring Ron's sarcasm.

"Their faces were hidden," Ron said, shaking his head as he thought back to the last few moments before everything went black, "There were three of them in black hooded robes; it seemed like they were hiding in the woods, waiting for me to pass by."

"This is most troubling," Dumbledore said, frowning gravely, "Students being attacked would be bad enough, but considering your importance --…"

Before Dumbledore could finish his statement, the doors to the hospital wing burst open and Professor Umbridge scurried in, her cheeks flush and an excited look in her bulging, beady eyes.

"Ah, Dumbledore; I've been looking for you," Umbridge said in a giddy squeak, "I understand that a student has been attacked. I do hope this is not a false-alarm like last time."

Ron had a pretty good idea that "last time" referred to him attacking Harry in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. With him being invisible and Harry escaping into the Chamber of Secrets, there was no proof that an attack had occurred…other than Myrtle, herself – who no one believed.

Umbridge seemed overjoyed that a student had been attacked and was now residing in the hospital wing to serve as proof that the attack did, in fact, occur. That, or she was just glad that _he_ had been attacked. She looked at Ron with undisguised glee in her eyes as he sat in his bed looking very much the-worse-for-wear.

"As you can see, Dolores," Dumbledore said, motioning towards Ron, "Mr. Weasley is, most assuredly, not a _'false-alarm'_."

"According to his school records, Dumbledore," Umbridge said with a sneer aimed at Ron, "Mr. Weasley has a history of mysterious injuries that have landed him in the hospital wing. How can we be sure this was not just another in his series of accidents, instead of an actual attack?"

"I was bloody well ambushed by three blokes in hoods!" Ron yelled, regretting it almost immediately as his head began pounding dizzyingly.

"You have no _proof_!" Umbridge shouted, pointing a stubby finger at him accusingly, "I've seen the way you skulk around this school, loitering in unused hallways and sneaking into girls' lavatories – you're an accident waiting to happen!"

"Actually, Dolores," Dumbledore said, drawing her attention away from Ron, "We _do_ have two witnesses to Mr. Weasley's attack."

"Well, then, Dumbledore," Umbridge said haughtily, "Since I have been assigned by _the Minister himself_ to investigate safety conditions here at Hogwarts, I insist on being allowed to speak with these witnesses."

"Of course, Dolores," the headmaster replied, bowing slightly, "Far be it from me to interfere with Cornelius' duly-appointed representatives. I shall summon the witnesses directly."

Dumbledore made his way out of the hospital wing, leaving Ron and Professor Umbridge alone to glare at each other.

"I know all about you and your family of blood traitors," Umbridge somehow managed to hiss in her falsely cheerful too-high voice, "Your father is a disgrace to pureblood wizards everywhere! Consorting with Muggles and Mudbloods…he should be ashamed; you should _all_ be ashamed! If Cornelius…if _the Minister_ had his way, he'd --…"

Before the pink-clad, toad-faced witch could reveal what would happen if Cornelius Fudge had his way, Dumbledore returned, entering the hospital wing with Viktor Krum and Hermione Granger on his heels.

Ron's hateful glare that was aimed at Umbridge was traded for a look of shocked incredulity when he saw Hermione and Krum following Dumbledore. They weren't the witnesses he had mentioned…were they? Suddenly, Madam Pomfrey's words about Viktor Krum saving his life flashed in his head, and Ron knew that, yes, these _were_ the witnesses.

"Are these the witnesses?" Umbridge asked with undisguised disdain, "A Muggleborn and a _foreigner_?"

Dumbledore frowned at Umbridge's open-faced bigotry, "Miss Granger is not only a top student, but a prefect as well; and Mr. Krum, besides being internationally known for his Quidditch skills, was a Triwizard champion last year."

"Fine, very well," Umbridge said, relenting, "If these are the _only_ witnesses available, then so be it. You…Bulgarian…what did you see?"

Viktor's thick black unibrow furrowed as he concentrated on remembering the previous day's events. "I vos valking Herm-own-ninny back to the castle…she vos cold and vonted something vormer to vare. Ve had been valking along the road ven ve spotted three people in robes standing over a body. It vos --…"

"Hem, hem" Umbridge interrupted, clearing her throat in that squeaky little girl voice she used, "I _am_ sorry, Mr. Krum, but is that _English_ you're speaking? I'm afraid I can't understand a word you're trying to say."

Ron almost laughed at the incredulous and embarrassed look on Krum's face. Had it not been Umbridge insulting the Bulgarian, he'd have enjoyed seeing it happen. However, since Umbridge had rapidly climbed to the top of his list of most-hated people, Ron couldn't help feel something akin to sympathy for Krum at the condescending way that Umbridge spoke to him.

If Ron felt sympathy for Viktor – though he'd never admit it – then Hermione, judging by the look on her face, felt outrage. It was odd, seeing her made up the way she was, with her hair done up in an attractive style once again, shooting daggers at Umbridge with her deep brown eyes.

"What Viktor said, _Professor_," Hermione snapped, "Is that three hooded individuals were standing over Ron's body off to the side of the road when we came along. The two larger individuals didn't speak, but the third one seemed to be taunting Ron. They all had their wands out and looked to be about ready to hex him, and as soon as they heard us coming up the road they ran off into the woods."

"What I'm hearing is that neither one of you actually _saw_ Weasley being attacked," Umbridge stated, looking back-and-forth between Hermione and Viktor, "He could have simply fallen down and those three individuals in hood could have been trying to help him until you arrived and scared them away."

"Or, they could have been bloody Death Eaters trying to kill me!" Ron shouted from his bed.

"Death Eaters?" Umbridge giggled condescendingly in her disturbing little girl voice, "All the Death Eaters were arrested or killed fourteen years ago; there _are_ no Death Eaters anymore, you foolish boy! And if there were still Death Eaters around these days, why would they want _you_ dead, of all people?"

"Why, indeed?" Dumbledore asked, shooting Ron a significant look that told the redhead that he was dangerously close to revealing too much information.

"Err…well…you know," Ron shrugged, trying to cover yet another gaffe, "I come from a family of blood traitors; Death Eaters…and _other bigots_…hate us as much as they do Muggleborns." Ron glared directly at Umbridge when he said "other bigots", letting her know without a shadow of a doubt that he was talking about _her_.

"It's understandable, then, isn't it?" Umbridge said with a malicious smile and a disturbing squeak in her voice, "That _proper_ wizards would want to attack you for the disgraceful manner in which your father has betrayed his pureblood status. Completely understandable."

"I hardly think the attack on Mr. Weasley can be termed 'completely understandable', Dolores," Dumbledore said sternly, "Any attack on a student is entirely unacceptable; I would hope that Cornelius would think so, as well."

"I believe that _I'm_ a much better judge of what _the Minister _thinks than you are, Dumbledore," Umbridge said, her squeaky voice wavering with undisguised contempt, "However, if you're concerned that other students might be in danger, then I believe the prudent move would be to cancel all future Hogsmeade visits until further notice."

"What?!" Ron exclaimed, nearly jumping up out of bed, "That's mental!"

"You can't _do_ that," Hermione gasped eyes wide in shock.

"I think you'll find, Miss Granger," Umbridge sneered, "As Senior Undersecretary to the Minister for Magic and duly-appointed safety inspector for Hogwarts, there are many things I _can_ do."

"I do not think canceling all future Hogsmeade visits is quite necessary, Dolores," Dumbledore said, "However, additional security during visits to the village _may_ be in order."

"And I suppose you'll expect _the Ministry_ to provide this 'additional security'?" Umbridge squeaked haughtily.

"If the Minister cannot be troubled to find a way to make the children of Wizarding Britain safe, Dolores," Dumbledore said pointedly, "I'm sure that I could recruit some associates of mine to do so…voluntarily, of course."

Umbridge's eyes widened before narrowing into an icy glare, "Are you _threatening_ the Minister, Dumbledore?"

"Not at all, Dolores," Dumbledore said with a wry smile, "I'm merely stating the fact that, while preferred, the Minister's assistance in this matter is not entirely necessary."

"I don't know what you're playing at Dumbledore," Umbridge said, her voice low and threatening, "But you would do well to remember that you are not as untouchable as you might think; you are not beyond the reach of the Ministry…no one is."

Without another word, Dolores Umbridge turned on her heel and stormed out of the hospital wing, the staccato _click-clacking_ of her pink heels echoing off the stone walls as she disappeared into the distance.

"Toad-faced old crone," Ron grumbled once Umbridge was gone.

"Ronald!" Hermione gasped in exasperation, "She may be completely horrible, but she is _still_ a teacher; you should show her some respect...especially in front of the headmaster!"

"Now, now, Miss Granger...I didn't hear a thing," Dumbledore said with a wink and a smile, "Ravages of age, you understand. I've gone temporarily deaf."

Ron grinned cheekily at Dumbledore before sighing and rolling his eyes at Hermione. "Come off it, 'Mione, even _you_ don't want to show that puffed-up pink hag any respect."

"Be that as it may, Ronald," Hermione said in a voice Ron recognized from the many times _his_ Hermione nagged him about getting his homework done on time, "I still _show_ Professor Umbridge respect…even if she doesn't deserve it."

"Herm-own-ninny…"

The sound of Viktor Krum calling Hermione's name broke into the familiar – to Ron, at least – back-and-forth bantering they'd once again fallen into, and drew their attention to the brooding Bulgarian.

"Oh, yes…of course, Viktor," Hermione said, blushing as though she had completely forgotten that he was there, "You have to be leaving soon."

"Yes," Krum nodded, "Vunce I am having a new Portkey."

"Of course, Mr. Krum," Dumbledore said brightly, placing a hand on Krum's shoulder, "If you will just follow me to my office, I shall arrange a new Portkey for you directly; it's the least I can do since you were good enough to miss your Portkey in order to remain at Hogwarts long enough for us to get something of a grasp on what occurred yesterday."

Dumbledore and Krum started to leave the hospital wing when Viktor turned back to face Hermione. "Herm-own-ninny, are you coming?" he asked, arching his unibrow at her.

"Oh…err…I thought…maybe someone should keep Ron company," she said, blushing, "At least until someone else comes up to visit."

"Vy?" Krum asked, narrowing his eyes suspiciously, "Vot is going on?"

"Viktor! Nothing is going on," Hermione laughed nervously, "Now, go get your Portkey; you're already twelve hours late returning home, and if you're much later you might miss practice."

Krum grunted and nodded curtly in her direction. Before he turned and left, he shot Ron an odd look that the redhead was still trying to interpret several moments later as he and Hermione lapsed into silence.

"I don't think your boyfriend likes you spending time with me," Ron said nearly a minute later, shattering the deafening silence in the hospital wing.

"Why do you say that?" Hermione asked, though she did not disagree with Ron's statement.

"Well, there's that look he gave me before he left, for one," Ron said, doing his best to imitate the expression on Viktor's face before he left the hospital wing with Dumbledore. His efforts only served to break Hermione out in laughter.

"I don't think he looked _quite_ like _that_," she said, smiling.

"Well, I reckon it's impossible to get the full effect when I've got _two_ eyebrows," he said, waggling his eyebrows to show of their separate nature.

"That's not very nice," Hermione said, failing to hold back her laughter, "Viktor comes from a very hirsute family."

Ron snorted out a laugh. He didn't exactly know what "hirsute" meant, but it sounded enough like "hair suit" that he found himself picturing Viktor and his parents walking around, duck-footed, in hairy suits reminiscent of something that Hagrid would be seen wearing when trying to look "dressed up".

"Actually, I think the _look_ Viktor gave you," Hermione said, getting serious now, "Was partly due to the fact that he remembers how dreadfully you've treated me in the past, and partly due to the fact that you just called me ''Mione' in front of him."

"I did?!" Ron gasped, eyes widening in shock, "Bloody Hell, 'Mi--…err…_Her_mione…I didn't mean to; it just sort of slipped out."

"I've noticed that with you," Hermione replied sternly, "You tend to speak without thinking, and things _'slip out'_ that you don't mean to talk about."

"I said I was sorry," Ron said, feeling properly chastised.

"I know," Hermione said, nodding, "I accept your apology."

Despite the apology, things grew awkward between Ron and Hermione, and they soon fell back into an uncomfortable silence; they each kept glancing over towards the hospital wing doors, as if waiting…or _wishing_…for Dumbledore and Viktor to return.

"I reckon I should thank Krum for buying you those robes you had on yesterday," Ron said, breaking the silence. He was looking down at his folded hands in his lap, unable to bring himself to look at Hermione.

"What? Why do you say that?" Hermione asked, sounding nervous.

"If you hadn't gotten cold, you wouldn't have been on the way back to the castle when I got attacked," he explained, "Who knows what those wankers would've done to me."

"Oh, that," she replied, blushing, "I told Viktor I was cold, but the truth is I was just uncomfortable. Remember how I told you Seamus and Dean whistled at me in those robes? Well, a lot of other boys – and some rather questionable men – did, as well, and what started out as flattering quickly became embarrassing and insulting…especially when the comments became more and more suggestive. And then there was what Malfoy called me."

"What did that little ferret say?!" Ron growled, his blue eyes flashing with undisguised hatred of Malfoy.

Hermione blushed heavily and looked down at her lap where she was wringing her hands anxiously. "He called me a…a 'Mudslut'."

"That effing little bastard! I'll kill him!!" Ron shouted, feeling like jumping out of bed again, but this time to rush down to the Slytherin dungeons, then rip Malfoy's arm off and beat him to death with it.

"The worst part was when Viktor didn't understand what Malfoy meant," Hermione said meekly, now clasping her hands tightly together as if they contained tears Ron could hear her holding back, "Viktor actually had to ask him what a 'Mudslut' was…and of course, Malfoy was only too happy to explain."

"I bet Krum hexed Malfoy into next week for _that_," Ron said, smiling as he imagined the pale blonde Slytherin finally getting his comeuppance.

"Actually, no," Hermione said, as a tear escaped and traveled down her cheek, "Viktor has a rather slender grasp on English, you see, and he wasn't familiar with the term 'Mudblood' or 'slut'. Malfoy walked off, laughing madly, and I had to explain what those words meant."

"Now I really _will_ kill him," Ron said hotly. He could only imagine how mortified Hermione had been, explaining in detail those insults to her boyfriend, "I swear to you, 'Mione, I won't let Malfoy get away with this."

"Don't!" she exclaimed, putting a hand on his wrist as if to restrain him and then pulling away immediately as if burned by the skin-to-skin contact, "You're a prefect…you'll lose your badge if you're caught fighting…especially with _another_ prefect. Besides, if anyone should defend my honor against the things Draco Malfoy said, it probably ought to be _my boyfriend_."

"Considering it's _his fault_ Malfoy called you a slut in the first place," Ron said, gritting his teeth. Whether Hermione had a boyfriend or not, Ron really wanted to make Malfoy pay, and even as she was telling him not to, Ron was imagining different scenarios in which Malfoy got his just desserts.

"What do you mean by that?!" Hermione snapped, bringing Ron out of his thoughts, "How is it Viktor's fault?"

"He made you dress that way, didn't he?" Ron said, accusingly, "You don't _normally_ wear makeup and do your hair up all fancy or put on skintight robes that have everybody and his brother gawking at you!"

"He's my boyfriend!" she retorted in exasperation, "He likes it when I dress up for him!"

"And what about you? Do you _like_ dressing up for him?" he snapped, "I'd have thought you'd prefer dressing like _yourself_."

"Viktor thinks I'm pretty this way," she said, cheeks flushed in frustration, "He says it reminds him of the Yule Ball!"

"The effing Yule Ball," Ron grumbled. Was that stupid ball going to keep coming back to haunt him? It was like he couldn't escape it; even now, almost a year later, and in a completely different dimension no less.

"If you had a girlfriend, wouldn't you want her to look nice for you?" she asked, "To dress up in clothes that make her look pretty?"

"Shouldn't I think she's pretty no matter _what_ she's wearing?" he asked, refusing to give an inch.

"I…well…that's rather sweet, actually," she said with a bemused smile, "There you go again."

Ron smiled smugly and then got a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. "Since you've gone to all the trouble to dress up for him, do you reckon your _boyfriend_ would dress up special _for you_?"

"What…like in a smart Muggle suit or something?" she asked. The look in her eye said that the doubted it.

"Actually, I was thinking you could get him to dress up like that muppet Lockhart," Ron said with a laugh, "Then you could have the best of both worlds."

"Oh my God!" Hermione laughed, "I can't believe you remember that!"

Ron snorted. "If Lockhart had his way, I wouldn't remember anything."

"What do you mean by that?" Hermione asked, looking confused.

"Err…nothing," Ron said, groaning inwardly as he once again slipped into a familiarity not meant for this Hermione. He quickly tried changing the subject. "You know, if Krum's not willing to dress up for you, do you really think you ought to get all tarted-up for him?"

"What is your problem?!" Hermione snapped, "We were having a nice conversation and you had to ruin it! What difference does it make to you how I look?"

"Because, you don't look like _you_," Ron said, raising his voice more than he had intended, "And I happen to _like_ the way you normally look!"

Hermione's mouth gaped open and she sat, looking completely shocked at Ron. "You…you do?"

Ron looked away, blushing. He'd said too much…again…and had very nearly confessed certain feelings he had developed for Hermione…_either_ Hermione – damn, he was confused. He knew she was waiting for a response, but he didn't know what to say. Fortunately…or not…Viktor chose that moment to return.

"Vot is going on here?" Krum said, looking expectantly from Hermione to Ron and back again, "Vot is all the yelling?"

"It's nothing, Viktor," Hermione said, standing up and placing a hand on his arm, "Did Dumbledore get you a new Portkey?"

"Yes, he did," Viktor replied, "But I vont to know vy he vos just yelling at you, Herm-own-ninny. You said he vos your friend…vy does he yell at you then?"

"He is my friend," Hermione said, blushing at that and causing Ron to arch an eyebrow at her which made her blush even harder, "It was just a misunderstanding."

"Vait a moment," the Bulgarian said, narrowing his eyes at Ron, "This is the vun from the ball…the vun from your letters, vare you say he is cruel to you and threatens Krushnik!"

"That's all in the past now, Viktor," Hermione said desperately, "He saved Crookshanks when some other students tried to hurt him; Crookshanks is actually somewhat fond of him now."

"I vill not stand for anyvun being cruel to you, Herm-own-ninny!" Viktor said, glaring menacingly at Ron.

Ron snorted derisively, "You stood by and let Malfoy call her a Mudblood and a slut, though, didn't you?"

"How dare you!" Viktor roared, looking as if he wanted to do Ron an injury.

The redhead and the Bulgarian were glaring daggers at each other, and Hermione was trying to pull her boyfriend away before they came to blows…but she was failing miserably.

"Don't get in a strop at me, you git," Ron snapped, moving as if to get out of bed despite the lingering pain from his injuries, "_You're_ the one who wanted her done up like a scarlet woman trolling Knockturn Alley for an easy shag!"

"Stop it!" Hermione shouted at Ron, her brown eyes pleading with him, "Come on, Viktor…let's just go."

"Yes, I haff had enough of this," Viktor said angrily, taking her hand and turning to leave the hospital wing in his usual duck-footed gait.

Hermione turned and shot Ron a look before her Bulgarian boyfriend dragged her through the double doors and out of Ron's line of sight. The odd thing was, Ron couldn't tell if the look was apologetic or angry; just one more thing for Ron Weasley to be confused about where Hermione Granger was concerned.

* * *

**Author's End Notes****: **Okay, well, there you have it. Some Ron/Hermione/Krum action (okay…_that_ sounds dirty…and so very, very wrong…*shudder*). Hope you all enjoyed that.

And now, for why you're _really_ reading down this far: what I intend to do for the one year anniversary of this story! I _could_ have chosen to push back the posting of _this_ chapter until next weekend, so it would fall on the actual anniversary…but that is a total dick move (which, in all fairness, is why it appealed to me); instead, I have decided to do post next weekend as well…_and_ the weekend after that (thus maintaining my schedule). So, for the next three weeks (this week, next week, the week after), you'll be getting a chapter a week instead of having to wait. Even though it's my story's anniversary, _you_ get the gift! How's that for a slice of fried gold?

Chapter 20 is up on February 5th, so mark your calendars. And if you feel like it, give me a review to let me know what you thought of _this_ chapter.

~Hawk~


	20. Foreview Mirror

**Author's Notes:** Happy Anniversary!!! WOOOOOOOO! Today is the one year anniversary of the very first chapter of **_Mirror, Mirror_** being posted here on FF. A whole entire year. Man, it's hard to believe. A lot of stuff has happened in the past year for me, personally, and not all of it was good. In fact, quite a bit of it was completely horrendous, but that's neither here nor there. **_Mirror, Mirror_ **is one year old!!

As promised, here is the second of three consecutive weeks of posting from me, and I hope you enjoy it. A lot of people have asked me continually to post more frequently than once every two weeks. Well, I'm sorry to say that's not gonna happen, except on extremely special occasions like this one.

I was going to hold off and post this tonight, around 8:00 or 9:00, but the truth of the matter is, if I hold off, I might not be able to post. There's a big ol' winter storm barrelling its way towards the Mid-Atlantic states, and there's the potential for power outtages. Wouldn't it suck if I wasn't able to post as promised? Yeah it would.

Anyway, here it is...Chapter 20. Among other things, it features Ron's first Quidditch match. So, sit back and enjoy it, and remember...the next chapter is only seven days away.

**Thanks: **As always, a big thank you to everyone who has reviewed. We're at 460 and counting...the 500 review mark is just around the corner!! Another big thank you to CutewithAcapital-Q for her help as my beta. There's been a lot more back-and-forth between us these last couple of weeks, so she's definitely earned her beta stripes!

**Disclaimer: **It all belongs to JKR, but if she's ready to sell, I'm willing to place a bid!

* * *

**_MIRROR, MIRROR_**

**Chapter 20**

"**Foreview Mirror"**

On Madam Pomfrey's orders, Ron had to stay in the hospital wing for two more days. He didn't mind in the least, since it meant he got to miss out on two days of classes. After the angry blow-up with Viktor, Ron didn't see Hermione again until he left the hospital wing. He did, however, receive his fair share of other visitors.

Neville and Ginny stopped by together on Sunday afternoon, shortly after lunch, holding hands and looking much more "coupley" than Ron would ever be completely comfortable seeing. However, they brought with them a large assortment of Honeydukes' finest confections as a "get well" gift for Ron, so he gave them a pass on the hand-holding.

Neville and Ginny both were pretty concerned about him being attacked, but judging by the expression on her face, it was obvious that Ginny was much more upset by it than Neville was. Ron attributed it to her just having come to terms with _him_, only to have him nearly taken away just like her real brother.

After dinner on Sunday, Ron once again had company, this time it was Fred and George bearing a toilet seat with the words "Get well ickle Ronniekins" emblazoned on it in flashing letters. The twins hung around until Madam Pomfrey kicked them out, joking with Ron and discussing their plans for improving his Keeper skills once he was back on his feet.

Over the course of Monday and Tuesday, Ron also received visits from Seamus Finnegan and Dean Thomas and Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil. He suspected that Seamus and Dean were simply bored and couldn't think of anything better to do than visit him – and help him eat some of his candy. With Parvati and Lavender, however, it was obvious that they were in search of juicy gossip, and Ron being attacked was the most interesting thing to occur since the dungbomb incident in the Slytherin dungeon.

Ron's most unusual visit took place Tuesday evening after dinner. He was down to his last Chocolate Frog and it was starting to look like he would be spending his final night in the hospital wing unable to indulge his sweet tooth.

He thought for a moment that he had fallen asleep and was dreaming when the hospital wing doors opened up and an entire chocolate cake came floating in. He soon realized that he was, indeed, awake, when he saw the cake was followed closely by Luna Lovegood, wand in hand and a dreamy smile on her lips.

Luna had convinced her housemates that nargles had laid eggs in the frosting – though she assured Ron that nargles only laid eggs in mistletoe – and since no one touched the cake, she brought it up to Ron, figuring he hadn't yet had dessert.

Touched that the unusual girl would steal an entire chocolate gateau for him, Ron spent the evening engaged in bizarre conversation about creatures he'd never heard of and conspiracy theories that sounded completely mental; all-in-all, though, it was an enjoyable time even if it was in the school infirmary.

Ron had just settled down for his last night sleeping in the hospital wing when the double doors opened quietly and Dumbledore swept into the room. The old headmaster made his way over to Ron's bedside and pulled up a chair.

"Good evening, Ronald," Dumbledore said, leaning in to examine the 'get well' toilet seat the twins had given him, "I understand Madam Pomfrey has authorized your release in the morning."

Ron nodded. "It'll be nice to go down to the Great Hall for meals and sleep in my own bed again."

"Have you given any thought into when you'll make your journey down into the Chamber of Secrets?" Dumbledore asked, his tone of voice, his eyes, and his very demeanor all deathly serious, "Considering recent events, perhaps the time has arrived…?"

Ron paled visibly at Dumbledore's words. He had been nearly killed by the three possible Death Eaters, and now, less than four days later, Dumbledore wanted him to go traipsing around down in the home of a giant snake that could kill him just by looking at him.

"You want me to go down there now?" Ron asked incredulously, "Right after a four-day stint in the hospital wing?"

"If the men who attacked you were, indeed, Death Eaters as you believe, Ronald, then it would seem that Voldemort has decided to target you," Dumbledore replied, "We thought this might happen once he realized that you had failed to be killed at the end of August."

"But I _was_ killed…or, rather, _your_ Ron _was_ killed," Ron clarified

"Yes, but since Voldemort obviously doesn't know the original attempt succeeded, if these men were Death Eaters, then he's apparently decided to try again," the old wizard said, looking sadly at Ron, "So, as you can see, time is a factor. You must act before Voldemort succeeds."

"Before he succeeds in killing me, you mean," Ron said grimly.

"Ronald, Voldemort _does_ want you dead," the headmaster sighed, "Make no mistake about it. According to the prophecy, only you can turn Harry Potter against Voldemort…a situation which could, in all likelihood, lead to Voldemort's eventual destruction."

"Even if I _do_ turn this Harry against You-Know-Who," Ron said, his blue eyes clouded over with uncertainty, "I don't see how your world winds up any better than mine. I mean _the other_ Harry never joined up with You-Know-Who, and he's still no closer to defeating him."

"There is information that you are unaware of, Ronald," Dumbledore said cryptically, "There was another prophecy, and unlike the one concerning you, Sybil Trelawney did not reveal this one in front of the entire population of Hogwarts."

"Another prophecy?" Ron was dumbfounded. How many of these things were there?

"Yes, Ronald," Dumbledore nodded, "This one concerned solely the Chosen One and the Dark Lord, and a power that the Chosen One possesses that can vanquish the Dark Lord."

"A…a power?" Ron asked, confused, "What sort of power?"

"I have an idea or two," Dumbledore admitted, "Though not being overly familiar with Mr. Potter and his capabilities, I cannot be certain."

"And this power can stop You-Know-Who once and for all?" Ron asked, awed by the idea of such a power.

"If the prophecy is true, then the Chosen One's power can destroy Voldemort," Dumbledore said, "But unless the Chosen One is on our side…"

Dumbledore left that unfinished sentence hanging in the air between them, ominously. Ron swallowed a lump in his throat as he realized what the aged headmaster was getting at.

"In order for Harry to use this power and destroy You-Know-Who, I have to turn him _against_ You-Know-Who, which means I have to destroy the diary to break Riddle's hold on him, which means I have to go into the Chamber to get the diary. Bloody Hell," Ron sighed, "Two different prophecies, but both of them related, yeah? And it all comes down to me."

"Indeed it does, Ronald," Dumbledore nodded, "Before Harry Potter can fulfill his destiny, you must first fulfill yours."

"No pressure," Ron said sarcastically before rolling his eyes and sighing. "So, I've gotta go down into the Chamber of Secrets…and _soon_."

"I'm afraid it would seem so, yes," Dumbledore said apologetically.

"As I see it," Ron said grimly, accepting his fate, "There are two immediate problems."

"I assume you are referring to the basilisk," the old wizard said.

"Yeah," Ron nodded, "That's the more obvious problem. The ruddy snake can kill me about fifty different ways, including just by looking at me. But, before the basilisk even becomes an issue, there's another problem that has to be handled first."

"And that would be?" Dumbledore asked, leaning forward, looking intrigued.

"I don't speak Parseltongue; in order to open the entrance to the Chamber, I have to tell it to _'open'_ in Parseltongue."

"I see," the old wizard nodded, "That does present itself as a problem."

"I don't reckon you're a Parselmouth?" Ron asked, though he felt sure he already knew the answer. The ability to speak the language of snakes was a rare gift, even amongst the Wizarding community, where the rare often seemed commonplace.

"Alas, no, Mr. Weasley," Dumbledore replied, shaking his head, "While I am able to _understand_ the language of snakes, I am not able to _speak it_."

"Well, the only Parselmouth I know is Harry, and I doubt he's going to open the Chamber for me…"

Ron's sentence trailed off and he looked off into space. The germ of an idea began forming in his mind. He'd seen…and, more importantly, heard…Harry Potter open the Chamber of Secrets twice now…once in Second Year and once a couple of weeks ago. Would that be enough?

"Professor…do you reckon it's possible for someone to _imitate_ Parseltongue just enough to fool a magical object? What I mean to say is…could making _the sound_ be enough without being able to understand the actual language?"

"It's an interesting idea, Mr. Weasley, but I honestly don't know if it would work or not," Dumbledore said, looking intrigued, "I do suppose it would be worth a try. Do you think you could mimic those sounds?"

"I reckon I'm going to try," Ron said determinedly, "And if it works…well…that just leaves the basilisk to deal with. I don't reckon there's a spell that can turn a fifty-foot poisonous snake with deadly eyesight into a puffskein or a pigeon or something?"

"Alas, no," Dumbledore said, shaking his head, "I'm afraid Transfiguration on that scale would be beyond the capabilities of most wizards."

"I'm going to need something to get rid of the basilisk," Ron sighed, "Otherwise, there's no point even going down there."

"I'll see what I can do, Mr. Weasley," Dumbledore said, clapping him on the shoulder and getting to his feet, "Try to get a good night's sleep…you're going to need your rest with what's to come."

Ron might have _needed_ his rest, but _getting_ his rest was easier said than done. He lay awake, staring at the hospital wing ceiling, mulling over what he was going to have to do very soon. When Ron finally fell asleep, his dreams were haunted by an ungodly pair of hideous yellow eyes.

When he was released from the hospital wing and rejoined his friends at the Gryffindor table for breakfast, even though his mind was focused on the Chamber of Secrets and the basilisk therein, everyone else seemed to have Quidditch on their minds – with the possible exception of Hermione, who seemed to only have the upcoming OWLs on her mind.

The very first Quidditch match of the season was coming up, and while the two teams playing the first match – Gryffindor and Slytherin – were concerned with practices to finish tuning up for the match, Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw were interested in scouting the teams as they played in the hopes of gaining an advantage when _they_ eventually played against them.

Angelina Johnson nearly pounced on Ron when he entered the Great Hall, encouraging him to find a way to draw upon his inner Weasley talent so they could have a decent chance when they played against Slytherin.

She was hopeful, since Slytherin had been forced to find a new Seeker after Harry unexpectedly quit the team at the beginning of the school year. Her excitement was curbed, however, by the fact that her own team's Seeker had yet to attend a practice.

Hardcore Quidditch fans spent most of their time speculating what would put a team at more of a disadvantage going into a new Quidditch season: a rookie Keeper or a rookie Seeker. When Ron managed to stop thinking about the Chamber and the basilisk long enough to worry about his upcoming performance, he felt certain that _he_ was the greater liability, since a poor showing by him at the rings could have the opposing team running up the score so badly that, even if his team's Seeker caught the Snitch, it wouldn't make a difference.

Fred and George made good on their offer to help Ron improve his Keeping skills. Ginny, too, lent a hand, using the old Comet Three-Sixty that had been Ron's until he received his Cleansweep for becoming a prefect.

Ginny seemed to be a natural Chaser – proving Ron's theory that the "amazing Weasley Quidditch skill" was actually passed down through the Prewett side of the family – and although the ease at which she took to Quidditch made Ron feel worse about his own meager abilities, having to defend against someone fast and agile like Ginny helped hone Ron's own skills once he got over her being so good at the sport.

Away from the pitch, Ron couldn't help noticing Malfoy and his goons stepping up their usual harassment of him to all new levels. Malfoy had looked decidedly put-out the day Ron was released from the hospital wing, shooting murderous looks not only at Ron, but Hermione as well; and day by day, those dark looks just grew darker.

It soon became obvious that all of Slytherin had begun a campaign of harassment, not just against Ron, but against the entire Gryffindor Quidditch team. Insults, rude gestures, and threats gave way to physical violence and hexing as the day of the match drew closer. Half the team wound up in the hospital wing at one point or another, and complaints to Professor Snape about his house's behavior fell on deaf ears as he told the Gryffindors to simply stop being so clumsy.

As if dwelling on his inevitable journey into the Chamber of Secrets – still no word from Dumbledore on getting past the basilisk – and worrying about his upcoming Quidditch performance wasn't enough to deal with, on Halloween, Ron overheard a conversation that gave him something new to think about.

He'd had another training session with Ginny and the twins, and was just leaving the dorm after showering and changing his clothes. The Halloween Feast was already under way, so as he reached the bottom of the boys' staircase, he expected the common room to be empty. Instead, he found Ginny and Hermione so embroiled in their conversation that they didn't notice him come into the room.

Ron was about to make his presence known, but Hermione looked and sounded so desperate as she spoke to Ginny that he thought better of it. Hermione hadn't spoken to him since the hospital wing, and he doubted that she would appreciate him interrupting her. That was why he quietly backed up the stairs and sat in the shadows.

He felt guilty for listening in on the conversation between the two girls, but having Hermione not talk to him was getting on his nerves…especially on patrols; the silence was deafening. If he could find out what was going on with her, maybe he could figure a way to get Hermione to speak to him again.

He was tempted to hurry back up to his dorm room and grab the invisibility cloak, but he was afraid he might miss out on some important tidbit of information. Of course, the first thing he actually managed to hear made him want to head up to the dorm for a different reason.

"Neville's your boyfriend now, isn't he?" Hermione asked, causing Ginny to blush bright red.

Ron had to fight the urge to flee as he realized that this was 'girl-talk' and not some sort of life-and-death problem that involved him. He absolutely did not want or need to hear the 'juicy details' Ginny and Neville's relationship.

"Neville and I haven't made any sort of official declaration or anything," Ginny replied, "But, yeah, I reckon he is."

"I know Neville would never do this," Hermione said uncomfortably, "But what would you do if he ever…hypothetically…told you who you were and were _not_ allowed to associate with?"

"_Hypothetically_…?" Ginny said, confused.

"Theoretically," Hermione clarified, "Pretend for a moment that Neville came up to you one day and told you that he didn't want you to any sort of contact with Colin Creevy anymore. Say you tried to reason with him, but is final word on the matter was that you're _his_ – Neville's – girlfriend and you are supposed to listen to him."

"Wow, Hermione, you're right," Ginny laughed, "Neville would _never_ do that…especially over someone like Colin."

"Colin's really not a proper analogy here," Hermione sighed, "I suppose someone more like Harry Potter would be more fitting."

"H-Harry Potter?" Ginny stammered, eyes widening.

Ron rolled his eyes and bit back a snort of derision. Apparently even _this_ Ginny had a crush on Harry. He didn't know how Hermione knew that, but he didn't know how it was Hermione knew a lot of things.

He was really starting to wonder what this whole conversation was really about. Was she really interested in Ginny's relationship with Neville, or was this all because of something that had happened between Hermione and Krum? If this _was_ about her and Krum, why come to Ginny for advice? Ron's urge to leave was growing…and yet…if Krum _had_ done something, he wanted to know about it.

"Harry Potter has been cruel to you in the past, yes?" Hermione went on, ignoring the uncomfortable look on Ginny's face, "And yet, you're still attracted to him…am I right?"

"How do you…who told you that?" Ginny asked heatedly.

"No one…it's just something I noticed," Hermione replied, waving Ginny off with a dismissive hand motion, "Now, say you and Harry had started to become friends…and Neville told you to avoid all contact with him."

"That's more something my brothers would do instead of Neville," Ginny said, shaking her head.

"Yes, I realize that, Ginny," Hermione said, sighing in obvious frustration, "Just _pretend_…please."

Ginny sighed as well, apparently getting just as frustrated. "Well, I suppose if Neville all of a sudden became a possessive arse and tried to tell me who I can be friends with, I'd remind him that I'm his girlfriend and not his house-elf…he doesn't _own me_…and if he wants me to continue to be his girlfriend, he'd best start treating me right. Otherwise, I have several older, overly protective brothers who would be more than happy to instruct him on the proper way to treat a girl while taking turns beating him to a pulp. And then I'd hex him myself."

"Wow, Ginny," Hermione gasped, looking awed, "Does Neville know what he's gotten himself into?"

"Neville's in no danger," Ginny said, shaking her head, "He's a perfect gentleman; besides, this isn't about me and Neville. Did Viktor really tell you who you can be friends with?"

"It was more like who I _can't_ be friends with under _any_ circumstances," Hermione sighed sadly, wringing her hands, "And before I could make him see reason, he activated his Portkey and left."

"So, who is it that you're attracted to that is making Viktor feel threatened to the point of acting like a possessive git?" Ginny asked, her eyes twinkling mischievously as she leaned in closer.

Ron would have rolled his eyes at Ginny, but he, too, was leaning in, interested in Hermione's answer. Of course, he had to be more careful lest he give away his hiding place. Was Viktor telling Hermione what to do? Ordering her around like he owned her? The irony that Hermione Granger, of all people, would be treated like a house-elf by _anybody_ was not lost on Ron. However, the idea of Viktor sodding Krum trying to control her like that just gave him one more reason to add to his laundry list of reasons to hate the Bulgarian Seeker.

"I…I didn't say I was attracted to anyone," Hermione said, blushing deeply.

"Sure you did," Ginny nodded, a determined look on her face, "You brought up Harry Potter because even though he's mean and a totally evil wanker, I still used to fancy him."

"_Used to_?" Hermione asked, arching an eyebrow.

"He's a total prick," Ginny said deadpan, "Definitely _'used to'_. Now, stop trying to make this about me and tell me who it is, Hermione."

"It…it doesn't matter _who_ it is, Ginny," Hermione said, looking pensive and nervous, "What matters is what I should do about it."

"Well that's up to you, isn't it?" Ginny said seriously, "Do you want to let Viktor make these kinds of decisions for you? He already decides what you wear…do you really want to let him choose your friends for you, too?"

"He doesn't decide what I wear!" Hermione snapped defensively, "He…he just…"

"Hermione…I really don't know you that well," Ginny said calmly, "We've only been friends for about a month…and before that we only saw each other in the common room or in the Great Hall or what have you…but in all the time we've been at school together, I've only seen you _dressed up_ twice."

"I don't see what _that_ has to do with anything," Hermione said indignantly.

"The first time I saw you dressed up…with your hair done…wearing makeup…was the Yule Ball," Ginny went on, undeterred by Hermione. Ron, upon hearing the hated words 'Yule Ball' scowled deeply under the cloak. "The second time I saw you all gussied up was the Hogsmeade weekend at the beginning of this month."

"So…?" Hermione huffed.

"So…Viktor is the common factor in both situations," Ginny said smugly, "He bought you the robes you wore to Hogsmeade and I bet the makeup and hair potion wasn't for _your_ benefit."

"What does any of this have to do with _anything_?" Hermione said angrily, glaring at Ginny.

Ginny sighed. "You asked my opinion; I gave it to you. What you do with it is completely up to you. If you love Viktor and want to make him happy, then do what he says; otherwise, figure out what makes _you_ happy and _do_ _that_."

"Thanks, Ginny," Hermione said, though it looked as though she was no closer to a decision than she was at the start of the conversation.

The two girls finally made their way out of the common room to join everyone in the Great Hall for the Halloween Feast. Ron waited a few minutes before following the girls down to the Great Hall, himself.

Viktor and Hermione were having problems, and considering her silence towards him since the hospital wing encounter, Ron was fairly certain that _he_ was the source of contention between the couple. He was understandably curious about what Hermione would eventually decide.

With Halloween out of the way, the first Quidditch match of the season arrived quickly. The day dawned grey and icy; not exactly ideal conditions for playing an outdoor sport like Quidditch, as it looked as though it might start snowing any moment.

As Ron sat at the Gryffindor table, looking down at the breakfast he realized he would not be able to stomach, Angelina Johnson rushed over excitedly and practically jumped on top of him.

"Great news, Ron!" the black girl exclaimed, smiling brightly.

"The match has been canceled?" he replied sarcastically.

"Merlin, no! That would be _horrible_ news," Angelina said, frowning, "I just found out the final lineup for Slytherin – they're fielding two new Beaters as well! Don't you see…almost half their squad is green, while we're only fielding _one_ rookie; our chances of winning just went way up!"

Ron realized what Angelina was trying _not_ to say to him was, _"Our chances of winning just went way up despite _you_ being on our team."_

"Anyway, I don't know much about their new Beaters, Crabbe and Goyle, but if they're anything like Derrick and Bole, then they barely know which end of a broom you sit on," Angelina said with a grin, "Montague is more interested in brawn than brains when it comes to choosing his team's Beaters."

"That's Crabbe and Goyle," Ron nodded, "I think without Malfoy to give them orders, those two idiots would forget how to breathe."

"Malfoy…that reminds me…" Angelina said, looking nervously over at the Slytherin table, "I don't know what that poncey little tit is up to, but I don't want you to let it get to you."

"What are you talking about?" Ron asked, confused. He looked over at the Slytherin table and found Malfoy staring at him with a malicious grin on his pointy-chinned face.

"He gave me this…called it 'a gift'," Angelina said, handing Ron a silver crown-shaped badge with the words _'Weasley is Our King'_ etched on it. "I have no idea what it means…do you?"

Ron shook his head, fingering the badge. "No idea what it means…but I reckon it's nothing good."

"Just remember," Angelina said, getting to her feet, "You're a Weasley…when you get out there, play like one!"

Ron watched her go for a few seconds before he sighed and turned forlornly back to his breakfast. He continued to look at the badge in his hand. _'Weasley is Our King'_. Ron looked up and saw every Slytherin at their table wearing one of the badges. No, whatever it meant, it was definitely _not_ good.

"I'm sure you'll do just fine, Ron," Ginny said from across the table where she sat, eating a bowl of porridge, "Especially with the extra practices you've been taking with me and the twins."

Ron just shrugged at Ginny's words and continued to fidget with the badge.

"Angelina's right Ron…you're a Weasley, and Weasleys rule the Quidditch pitch," Neville said, smiling, "And the Slytherins know you're going to do an amazing job out there, so they're trying to get into your head with those badges."

Ron looked up at Neville. He had a point – the Slytherins would do everything in their power to undermine his self-confidence. That had to be what Malfoy was up to. Before Ron could reply to Neville and Ginny, the brunette sitting beside him decided to speak up. An unusual occurrence, since she hadn't said one word to him since his stay in the hospital wing – though she continued to eat her meals with Ron, Neville, and Ginny – but apparently now she felt it was time to break her silence.

"Can't you see that you're just making him more nervous?" Hermione said scathingly, "Angelina's putting enough pressure on him; he doesn't need you adding to it."

Ron turned and looked at Hermione, completely unable to believe what he was hearing. She spent a month not talking to him, and now, out of the blue, she starts defending him. Ron was definitely confused.

"Well, your boyfriend's a _professional_ Quidditch player, Hermione…what does Viktor do to get rid of his nerves before a match?" Neville asked, no doubt trying to be helpful, but failing miserably.

At the mention of Viktor's name, Ron got up from the table, taking that as his cue to leave. The last thing Ron needed before his first outing as Keeper was to hear about "darling Vicky" and his pre-match rituals.

Without looking back, Ron left the Great Hall, ignoring his name being called by his friends as well as the catcalls and jeers of the Slytherins as he passed their table. He was halfway across the entrance hall when a deafening _roar_ made him jump.

He turned, pulling his wand, to face whatever crazed monster had infiltrated the castle and was bearing down on him this time, only to find himself face-to-face with a dreamy-eyed Luna Lovegood, wearing a hat the resembled a life-sized lion's head…complete with very loud, very realistic _roar_.

"Good morning, Ronald," Luna said, coming up alongside him.

"Luna…what the blood Hell are you wearing?" Ron asked, smiling at the girl who seemed to get odder every time he saw her.

"I'm supporting you…and Gryffindor, of course," she said, smiling dreamily, "Do you like it?"

"I…it's wicked," he said, nodding. That made Luna smile even more brightly.

"I wanted to have it chewing up a snake…to represent you beating Slytherin, but there wasn't enough time," she said.

"It's great, just like it is," he replied.

"I'll wear it whenever you play…unless of course you're playing against Ravenclaw. Anyway, good luck, Ronald!" Luna shot him one final smile and then made her way to the Great Hall, passing a determined-looking Hermione who only halted her hurried pace momentarily to gawk at Luna's hat before rushing up to Ron.

"Ron, I…what were you doing with Luna Lovegood?" Hermione asked suspiciously, giving him a look that Ron couldn't place.

"She's a neighbor of mine…and a friend," he explained.

"Oh…"

"She was wishing me luck," he explained further.

"Oh!"

"I have to get out to the pitch, Hermione," he said when it didn't appear Hermione was actually going to say anything other than _'oh'_.

"Oh…right…yes," Hermione said, nodding as she started to wring her hands nervously, "Ron…listen…about what Neville said…who _cares_ what Viktor does when he's nervous, okay? Just…I…good luck, Ron!"

Before Ron could respond to her, Hermione put her hands on his shoulders, stood up on her tiptoes, and planted a kiss on his cheek. She blushed deeply and ran off towards the marble staircase, leaving Ron standing there, gaping at her. He brought his hand up and gingerly touched the spot Hermione's lips had grazed only moments before.

"Bloody Hell."

_Weasley cannot save a thing,_

_He cannot block a single ring,_

_That's why Slytherins all sing:_

_Weasley is our King._

Ron knew, as soon as Angelina handed him that stupid crown-shaped badge, that nothing good would come of today's Quidditch match. He was already nervous when he took to his broom, but when he heard the entire population of the Slytherin bleachers belting out that humiliating song, he might as well have been lying in his bed back in Gryffindor tower for all the good he did his team.

_Weasley was born in a bin,_

_He always lets the Quaffle in,_

_Weasley will make sure we win,_

_Weasley is our King._

It wasn't bad enough that Ron was making a poor showing in his debut as Keeper, but he was also driving the rest of his team to distraction. After Ron had failed to stop a fourth goal from being scored, Cormac McLaggen, the team's unusually wide and burly Seeker decided to forego searching for the Golden Snitch in order to criticize Ron's Keeping style.

"Merlin's pants, Weasley, what the Hell are you doing?!" McLaggen shouted, bringing his broom to a stop a few yards in front of where Ron was desperately trying to keep from screwing up any further, "You _do_ realize you're supposed to _stop_ the Quaffle from passing through the hoops, yeah?"

"Shove off, McLaggen…you're blocking my view!" Ron shouted back, trying to see around McLaggen's massive form.

Unfortunately for Ron, Montague – the Slytherin captain and one of their Chasers – used the distraction provided by McLaggen to pelt a Quaffle through the right goal hoop before Ron could even see what was happening.

"You are the absolute _worst_, Weasley!" McLaggen groaned, clearly oblivious to his own involvement in Slytherin's latest goal, "I wouldn't be surprised if you _were_ born in a bin!"

"McLaggen!" an irate Angelina Johnson suddenly appeared over the Seeker's shoulder, "Leave Weasley alone and get your arse out there and find the Snitch!"

McLaggen rolled his eyes and took off across the pitch, leaving Ron to his Keeping duties…not that it mattered much; Ron still put on an abysmal showing out in front of the rings.

_Weasley is our King,_

_Weasley is our King,_

_He always lets the Quaffle in,_

_Weasley is our King._

Ron missed Quaffle after Quaffle, and instead of doing his job and trying to find the Snitch, McLaggen seemed content to sing along with the Slytherins at mock Ron at every available opportunity.

McLaggen only stopped haranguing Ron when a Bludger pelted past his head, narrowly missing his left ear. When the Gryffindor Seeker turned his attention back to the match, it was obvious that the Bludger had been sent his way by Fred or George and not one of the Slytherin Beaters.

As enjoyable as it was to watch McLaggen nearly get his head taken off by a Bludger, the highpoint of the match…for Ron, at least…was when he was attempting to pass the Quaffle – one of the few he managed to block – to Katie Bell and Draco Malfoy tried to intercept.

Malfoy didn't count on the effect Ron's nerves would have on him, giving him not only poor aim, but also making him use excessive force when throwing a Quaffle intended for a teammate. As a result, the Quaffle smashed Malfoy right in the face, bloodying his nose and nearly knocking him off his broom.

The final score of the very first match of Ron's Quidditch career at Hogwarts was 300 to 70 in favor of the Slytherins. Since McLaggen was so busy harping on Ron instead of actually doing his job as Seeker, the Slytherin Seeker, despite being a complete and total rookie, had a very easy job finding the Snitch at his leisure.

Ron took the loss hard; he'd let in fifteen goals, while the other team's Keeper, Bletchley, had only allowed seven goals to be scored. As if Ron hadn't been feeling the loss to the depth of his soul and blaming himself completely, McLaggen decided to give Ron a dressing-down in the middle of the pitch for everyone to hear, where he let Ron know in no uncertain terms that Gryffindor's loss was entirely _his_ fault.

Ron didn't know whether the rest of the team agreed with McLaggen or not. Ron, himself, certainly did, so he took off, leaving the shouts of McLaggen and the taunting jeers of the Slytherins behind.

Ron wandered the Hogwarts grounds, making a point of avoiding anybody and everybody who might be out looking for him. Somewhere around noon, it began to snow, and Ron found himself regretting his decision to storm off in his sweat-soaked Quidditch gear instead of changing back into his warm, dry, everyday clothes that were sitting in the Gryffindor changing tent waiting for him to return.

When Ron spotted Hagrid's deserted cabin looming in the distance, he made a beeline for it, deciding that breaking into the unoccupied hut was preferable to freezing. The place was dusty and cold, but it was a far-sight warmer – not to mention dryer – than it was outside in the snow.

Holing up inside the half-giant's cabin brought to mind memories of all the times he'd spent there in the past: the birth of Norbert and the subsequent rush to send the dragon off before Hagrid got sacked – earning him a painfully poisonous bite from the dragon; watching under the invisibility cloak as Hagrid got sent off to Azkaban for supposedly opening the Chamber of Secrets, followed by the journey into the Forbidden Forest to speak to Aragog the acromantula – where he was nearly eaten by the giant man-eating spiders; trying to comfort Hagrid prior to Buckbeak's execution and the near-fatal adventure that followed – garnering him a rat bite, a dog bite, and a broken leg; trying to convince Hagrid that, not only did they still consider him a friend, but that they wanted him to return to teaching after Rita Skeeter wrote her article outing Hagrid as a half-giant – but, then, of course there were Hagrid's blast-ended skrewts.

He laughed and shook his head. "I reckon those're what you call bittersweet memories."

Ron managed to get a fire going and was sprawled out in Hagrid's over-sized armchair, warming himself. He had managed to put the disastrous Quidditch match behind him, temporarily, and found himself wondering where it was that the hapless half-giant could be. Two months had passed since the start of the school year, and there was still no sign of Hagrid.

"I'll have to ask Dumbledore about it next time I see him," Ron said to himself, stifling a yawn as the warmth of the fire started making him sleepy, "I just hope Hagrid hasn't gone and gotten himself in trouble."

Thoughts of where Hagrid may be filled Ron's head as the roaring fire lulled him to sleep. Before long, he was snoring away, fully ensconced in a mid-day nap, his unfortunate showing as Gryffindor Keeper long behind him.

* * *

**Author's End Notes: **It seems every time I post, there's some new glitch going on with the system. My apologies for any weirdness with the story format...the editor didn't seem to want to work properly.

Anyway, that was Chapter 20. Next chapter, an old friend returns and Hermione makes a wild accusation. It all happens in 7 short days.


	21. Reflections of Things to Come

**Author's Notes:** Well, here it is...the third and final installment of my three straight weeks of updated chapters. I hope you enjoyed the extra week of story updates, because from here on out it goes back to the regularly two week posting schedule.

Ron is getting closer and closer to his eventual descent into the Chamber of Secrets (look for it to happen next chapter), and while that is a major plot point, there's still a whole bunch of story left to tell. This particular story is set to continue until the end of the schoolyear, and seeing as it's only November in this current chapter, that means there's still quite a few chapters left to come. So, if you think the story is wearing out its welcome, or it needs to hurry up and jump to the end because you're getting bored with it...well...you can either sit back and stick with it, or you can jump ship...cuz I'm not ending it until the story's over.

**Thanks:** I'd like to thank my beta, CutewithAcapital-Q for continuing to go over these chapters for me prior to posting. Her brutally honest opinion is why I asked her to be my beta in the first place. I'd also like to thank my reviewers. 483 reviews so far as I type this, and for the most part all of them positive (with one or two exceptions). What most of you are telling me is that you're enjoying yourselves and the story I'm weaving for you...so thanks!

**Disclaimer:** You know the drill...this isn't mine, it's JKR's...blah, blah, blah...

* * *

_**MIRROR, MIRROR**_

**Chapter 21**

"**Reflections of Things to Come"**

Ron was in the midst of a rather pleasant dream in which Hermione felt the need to wish him luck and kiss his cheek each and every time she saw him. This led to some rather odd occasions for her to wish him luck – "Good luck eating breakfast, Ronald", "Good luck going to bed, Ronald" – but Ron wasn't complaining.

However, the dream took an unexpected turn when Hermione stopped kissing his cheek in the dream and began wetly and sloppily licking him all over his face. She also stopped wishing him good luck and began barking loudly instead.

Ron's subconscious must have had too difficult a time reconciling such disparate images of Hermione, and he started waking up. The first thing he realized upon waking up fully was that was still being licked and barked at.

"Bloody Hell, Fang…knock it off!" Ron exclaimed when he became fully aware of what was going on. He tried pushing the massive boarhound away, but the dog was having none of it.

"Ge' off him, yeh dozy dog!" the booming voice of Hagrid snapped, echoing off the walls of the cramped hut and the dog eventually obeyed, lumbering off to lie at the foot of Hagrid's bed, "I don' know what yer doin' down here, 'specially at this time o' night in the middle of a snowstorm…but my house is off-limits ter students."

Ron was about to ask Hagrid when his hut had become off-limits, but he caught sight of Hagrid's face in the firelight and a different question came shooting out of his mouth.

"Bloody Hell, Hagrid, what happened to you?!"

Hagrid's hair was matted with congealed blood and his left eye had been reduced to a puffy slit amid a mass of purple-and-black bruises. There were many cuts on his face and hands – some of them still bleeding – and he was moving about gingerly, causing Ron to think he might broken some ribs. He limped over to the fire and placed a copper kettle over it.

As Ron looked around, he saw that Hagrid's thick black traveling cloak and monstrous rucksack were sitting together by the door. Had the half-giant not looked as though he'd been attacked by a dozen mountain trolls, Ron would have thought he'd merely been away on holiday.

"Don' yeh worry none abou' what happened ter me," Hagrid said impatiently, his beetle-black eyes glaring at Ron, "How abou' yeh tell me what yer doin' breakin' in ter my home?"

Ron shook his head, unable to believe someone he was used to being so genial could be so different here. Apparently having Harry Potter in his life as a friend would have made a huge difference in the big man's life.

"I'm waitin' fer an explanation, Mr. Weasley," Hagrid said sternly, interrupting Ron's thoughts.

"Oh…err…I was out on the grounds having a walk when it started to snow," Ron explained quickly, leaving out a few _unimportant_ details, "I just wanted to get outta the cold, and I reckon I fell asleep. Sorry."

"Yeh bes' be gettin' back ter the castle; it's dark now and students aren' allowed outside after dark," the half-giant grumbled, stiffly turning his back on Ron and going about the preparations for a cup of tea.

"Yeah, right…I'll just be going then," Ron said, making for the door, "But before I go…do you need me to get Madam Pomfrey for you?"

"No need for all tha'; I'll be fine," Hagrid gruffly waved Ron off, "Just yeh be gettin' back ter the castle…and be quick abou' it. Yeh never know what migh' be lurkin' in the dark these days."

Ron gave Hagrid an arch look, wondering just exactly what sort of lurking _thing_ did _that_ to the half-giant. Whatever it was, he certainly hoped he didn't run into it on his way back to the castle. He had just opened the door and was about to leave the warmth of Hagrid's hut for the snowy Hogwarts grounds when the big man spoke again.

"Oh, and Mr. Weasley? Because I was fond of your brother, Charlie, I won' deduct any house points from yeh fer breaking in ter my house. Just don' let it happen again."

Ron's mouth gaped open, unable to believe the words coming out of Hagrid's mouth. Deduct house points?! He'd never once seen Hagrid deduct points from anybody for any_thing_. Hagrid looked at him expectantly, and Ron closed his mouth and nodded curtly before leaving the hut.

"Yes…sir."

Of all the teachers and staff Ron had encountered, this world's Hagrid was the most unlike the one he'd known on the other world. _That_ Hagrid was happy-go-lucky and friendly almost to a fault. This one, however, was surly and bitter and wasn't in the habit of befriending students. Ron briefly recalled his dead counterpart's memories of the Sorting Ceremony in First Year and Hagrid's heartbroken expression when Harry was sorted into Slytherin. That, no doubt, was the birth of this new unfriendly Hagrid.

Getting past the unfamiliar attitude of this Hagrid, Ron began thinking about the state the half-giant was in. Something had given him quite a working-over, and considering Hagrid's size, it must have been a _big_ something.

_"I just hope he didn't bring the bloody thing home with him in the hopes of making it a pet,"_ Ron said to himself as he thought about Fluffy and Norbert and Buckbeak and the blast-ended skrewts, _"Merlin help us if he did."_

The trek back to the castle was made to seem twice as long thanks to the snow on the ground. He must have been asleep in Hagrid's cabin for quite some time for so much snow to have accumulated since noon.

Thoughts of Hagrid's cabin and the gruff man within faded as Ron got closer to the castle, only to be replaced with memories of the disastrous Quidditch match he played earlier. His legs, already tired from trudging through the snow, began to feel like lead as he imagined the sort of greeting he might receive upon his return.

_Weasley is our King!_

That stupid Slytherin song flashed in his head as he entered the castle, leaving wet, snowy footprints in his wake. He knew he shouldn't let Draco Malfoy and his stupid goons get the better of him, but knowing what he _should_ _do_ and actually _doing it_ were two different things.

When he reached the entrance to Gryffindor tower, the portrait of the Fat Lady decided to give him a hard time, since he had to wake her up in order to give her the password. He had to argue with the painting for nearly five minutes before the Fat Lady finally relented and allowed him to enter the common room.

He was hoping everyone would have gone to bed already, since it was after midnight already. As usual, however, Ron did not get what he wanted. Neville and Ginny were sharing one of the good armchairs by the fire, and Hermione was in the other one with Crookshanks nestled in her lap.

Neville and Ginny had been talking quietly amongst themselves, looking exceptionally cozy, but when Ron entered the common room, they had the good grace to separate, with Neville getting up out of the chair, blushing brightly.

Hermione had her nose buried in a book and was stroking Crookshanks with her free hand. The moment Ron entered the common room, she, too, was up out of her seat…much to Crookshanks' displeasure.

"Where've you been?!" Hermione exclaimed, rushing over to Ron, "We've been worried sick!" Ron gave her a curious look and Hermione began blushing deeply and looking down at her feet. "I mean…Neville and Ginny have been worried…I was mildly curious. After all, if something happened to you, I'd need to find a new partner for patrols every week."

A derisive snort drew everyone's attention to Ginny where she sat, smirking at Hermione. "Don't you believe her, Ron…she's been talking about organizing a search party to go and look for you for the last few hours."

"Well, anything could have happened!" Hermione said in defense of herself, "And don't pretend you weren't worried, too, Ginny! You've been biting your nails and checking the clock every ten minutes since the sun went down!"

"I think what the girls are trying to say is that we missed you, mate," Neville said, interrupting the bickering, "You look frozen…where've you been?"

"Been out walking," Ron said, leaving out the nice long nap he'd had in the warmth of Hagrid's cabin, "Needed to clear my head after that match."

An awkward silence enveloped the room as Ron brought up the morning's Quidditch match and the horrible loss suffered by Gryffindor.

"I'm quitting the team," Ron said finally as he stood warming himself by the fire. He moved over and dropped down onto one of the weathered old couches, sighing deeply, "I reckon McLaggen was right; it was my fault we lost."

"No, it wasn't," Ginny said, getting up out of her chair and joining Ron on the couch, "That stupid song the Slytherins were singing would've rattled anybody."

"And because they know it'll get to me, they'll keep singing it at every match," Ron complained, "No thanks!"

"If you quit, you'll be letting your team down," Hermione said, taking a seat on the other side of Ron, "And after they stood by you today, that would be a pretty selfish thing to do."

"What're you talking about?" Ron asked, screwing up his face in confusion.

"After the match," Hermione began, "McLaggen called for a team meeting in the changing tent, where he called into question, among other things, your Keeping skills, the twins' Beater abilities, and Angelina's captaincy. He laid the blame for losing at everyone's feet but his own."

"What a tosser," Ron grumbled, "What happened next?"

"Mind you, this story was related to us by Fred and George," Ginny explained as she picked up the story where Hermione left off, "So the part where Angelina kicked him off the team, he called her a petty dictator, and she punched him in the face may or may not be true."

"However, he did show up to dinner with a black eye," Neville said with a smile as he sat on the coffee table in front of Ron and the girls.

"Brilliant!" Ron laughed, wishing he'd been there for that.

"That's not the best part of what you missed," Neville continued, shooting a meaningful look at Hermione.

"Neville, don't…" Hermione pleaded, eyes wide, "It's not something that should be bragged about!"

"What? What happened?" Ron asked, thoroughly curious now.

Neville grinned cheekily. "Let's just say one of the girls in this room will be serving detention all week for hexing Pansy Parkinson in the middle of the Great Hall today at lunch…"

"Ginny, you didn't!" Ron laughed, looking over at his sister. Ginny, however, was shaking her head.

"Don't look at me," Ginny grinned, pointing an accusatory finger in Hermione's direction, "Hermione had already transfigured Pansy into a little pug-faced dog before I could even get my wand out."

"You did that?" Ron looked at Hermione and smiled admiringly at her, causing the bushy-haired brunette to blush.

"It's her own fault," Hermione said, trying to sound stern, but still looking embarrassed, "She kept leading the Slytherins in singing that stupid song. I told her to stop, but instead she tried to get the rest of the houses singing it as well. Somebody had to stop her…I was just the first one with my wand out."

"Bloody Hell," Ron gasped wide-eyed in complete and utter awe. He was immediately reminded of the fake Mad-Eye Moody turning Draco Malfoy into a ferret last year. Not only was it advanced magic – easy business for Hermione to handle, being the brilliant witch she was – but it was also advanced _rule-breaking_, right out for everyone to see – something no one expected from the prim and proper prefect.

"I suppose I might have overreacted a bit," Hermione said, her cheeks a bright crimson, Ron smiled affectionately at her, prompting Hermione to smile back. More than ever before being here with Hermione felt like home to Ron.

"It was the greatest thing I ever saw!" Ginny laughed, drawing Ron and Hermione's gaze away from each other, "One second Pansy's standing on the bench singing loud and off-key, and the next she's this ugly little dog yapping and howling like she was still trying to sing."

"And then the teachers started arguing," Neville added, smiling broadly, "Snape wanted to be the one to give Hermione detention, since it was a Slytherin who was hexed. Umbridge insisted it was a safety issue since one student attacked another, and therefore she should have the right to handle it since she's the Ministry's safety inspector."

"In the end, though," Neville continued, taking a breath, "It wound up falling to McGonagall. She argued that since it was one of _her_ prefects who broke the rules, and Transfiguration was used, it was _her_ duty to oversee the detention. She even got Dumbledore to back her up. I think she knew Hermione wouldn't get a fair shake if one of the other two gave her detention."

"Perhaps," Hermione said sadly, "I just wish I hadn't disappointed Professor McGonagall."

"Disappointed, Hell!" Ginny exclaimed, "I saw the look on her face, Hermione…she was proud! You stood up for your house _and_ used NEWT-level Transfiguration magic! Old McGonagall was practically beaming!"

"But I broke _at least_ five different school rules!" Hermione countered, looking stricken.

"And you broke them with style," Ron said with a broad grin on his face and unmistakable pride in his voice, "Hermione Granger doesn't break rules often, but when she does, she does it in a big way!"

Hermione smiled shyly at him and it looked as though Ron had made her feel a bit better about breaking the rules and getting detention. With Hermione's distress over her upcoming punishment alleviated, the four of them settled into relaxed and easy conversation until the wee hours of the morning.

* * *

When Hermione's detention with McGonagall started, it became clear right from the start that the punishment was more symbolic than anything else. Hermione had to spend three hours a night helping Professor McGonagall grade papers…but she did so while sitting in a comfortable chair, drinking tea and eating biscuits.

Ron couldn't believe Hermione's detention had been meted out by the same teacher who had once ordered him to clean all the trophies in the trophy room, without magic, using nothing but a Muggle toothbrush.

Hermione tried to deny that maybe she was being treated with a bit of favoritism by Professor McGonagall, but the blush on her cheeks when she did so revealed that she probably wasn't even convincing herself.

Ron felt a tad bit responsible for Hermione having to serve detention – even a cupcake of a detention like the one she had to serve – since she had been standing up for him when she got herself in trouble. As a result, Ron made a point of waiting for Hermione in the common room each night she had detention, so he could do his homework alongside her, so she wouldn't be alone.

Of course, doing so also provided Ron the added benefit of Hermione being right there if he stumbled upon a problem with his homework. He knew better than to ask her to let him copy her work or to actually do it for him, but she didn't seem above proofreading his work and offering suggestions on how to make it better. It was friendly and familiar and Ron enjoyed it, even if it meant doing homework on the night it was assigned instead of procrastinating until the last minute.

That was how Ron found himself doing homework on a Friday night at almost midnight, instead of sleeping soundly in his bed like his dorm mates were. He had struggled through an essay on the uses of bat wings in potion-making and was just about to ask Hermione to look it over when there was a sudden tapping at the window.

A large brown owl sat on the ledge outside of Gryffindor tower, very impatiently trying to get inside.

"Who would send an owl at this time of night?" Hermione asked as she got up from the table where she and Ron were working in order to let the owl in. She peered closely out the window at the owl. "Isn't that one of the school owls?"

"No idea," Ron said, tapping his quill on his chin as Hermione opened the window.

The large brown owl flew into the room and landed on the table in front of Ron, a large parcel clutched in its talons.

"I guess it's for you," Hermione said, looking on with interest.

"Yeah, but I never get mail," Ron said as he took the parcel and the owl flew back out the way it had come, "Who'd be sending me something with one of the school owls?"

Ron wasn't being _completely_ honest. He had received exactly one piece of post since arriving in this world; it had been a note from Dumbledore. Ron's spine tingled with anxiety and anticipation; this was no doubt from Dumbledore as well. Ron could only imagine that this was the old wizard's way of helping him get around the basilisk.

"There's only one way to figure out who sent it," Hermione said, breaking Ron out of his thoughts as she returned to the table and sat down, "Open it."

It was a reasonable enough suggestion, but Ron wasn't sure he should open it in front of Hermione. There was no telling what Dumbledore had sent him, and Hermione was already suspicious enough as it was.

"Maybe I should wait," Ron said, concerned as to what her reaction might be, "There's no telling what's in here. It could be a prank from the twins."

"Don't be ridiculous," Hermione said, looking intrigued, "It looks like a book. Why would you want to wait to open a book?"

Ron smiled at Hermione's enthusiasm and the way her eyes lit up when she said the word "book". She was right, too; the parcel did look particularly book-shaped, and that got Ron wondering what sort of book Dumbledore might send him. Against his better judgment, Ron opened the parcel.

As soon as Ron began ripping the brown paper off the parcel, Hermione leaned in close, obviously wanting to get a good look at the book. Her bushy mane of brown hair inadvertently brushed against Ron's cheek and he stiffened slightly. She was close enough that he could feel the warmth of her breath and smell her perfume; it was something spicy and foreign and he decided immediately that he didn't like it.

"Come on…what are you waiting for?" she urged, nudging him. He snapped out of his reverie and went back to opening the parcel.

It was, indeed, a book. In fact, it was a book Ron recognized immediately. The book was old and dusty and the cover was cracked and faded to the point where the title was completely unreadable; its pages were yellow and brittle…it was the book wherein Ron had found Magnum's Stunner. Was this how Dumbledore planned to help him with the basilisk?

"It's so old," Hermione said softly, drawing Ron out of his thoughts once more. She ran her hand gently and reverently over the cracked leather cover, "You can't even see the title, it's so faded. What sort of book do you suppose it is?"

Ron could see that Hermione was desperate to open the mysterious old book and find out for herself what secrets it held, but she was too polite to just shove him out of the way and have at it – though he was sure that she wanted to do exactly that.

"It's a book of old, obscure spells," Ron said knowingly. He picked the book up and carefully opened it; a slip of paper fell out when he did, and at first Ron thought the book was finally falling apart. Upon closer examination, however, he saw the slip of paper was a note with Dumbledore's familiar handwriting on it. Setting the book back down, Ron quickly snatched up the note and read it before Hermione could.

_Your answer lies within…__see__ for yourself._

_"Cryptic as usual,"_ Ron thought_._ Dumbledore seemed either unable or unwilling to simply give him a straightforward answer. Ron turned his attention back to the book to see if he could find the "answer" the note spoke of, but Hermione was already carefully flipping through the pages of the book.

"Who would send you such an old – oh!" Hermione exclaimed excitedly, cutting herself off, "Look, a page has been marked. _'Sight of the Unseeing'_…that's an odd name for a spell."

"What's it do?" Ron asked, trying to read over her shoulder. If Dumbledore had marked a page in this book for him, it had to be for a reason.

"It says here that by use of this spell, a wizard would be able to close his eyes and still see as if he had both eyes wide open," Hermione said as she read the spell's description, "Well, that has very limited usefulness, doesn't it? No wonder it's in a book so old that no one remembers it."

"Err…yeah…I reckon," Ron agreed, though he could already see how its 'limited usefulness' could come in handy with a basilisk lurking about.

"Why would someone want you to know about this spell?" Hermione asked, looking from Ron to the book and back again, "Why would you need to see with your eyes closed?"

"Erm…" Ron had no idea what to tell her. He couldn't tell her the truth, even though he really wanted to. Hermione narrowed her eyes at him, as though she were trying to figure something out.

Her eyes suddenly widened and she looked back down at the book and then pointed at him accusingly as she jumped to her feet. "You've seen this book before!"

"What? No, I --…"

"You knew it was a book of ancient spells before we even opened it," she said, cutting him off, "What's going on here, Ron?"

"Nothing!" Ron lied.

"You're being secretive again, Ronald," Hermione said, crossing her arms and fixing him with a stern look.

"And you're being bloody _pushy_!" he snapped, crossing his own arms just as she had done, "Now back off."

"That was a school owl that delivered the book," Hermione continued, ignoring Ron as she started to pace back-and-forth in front of the fire, "And that book is hundreds of years old…it's exactly the sort of book one might find in the restricted section."

"Hermione…" Ron began warningly.

"_This_ must have been what you were looking for weeks ago when you went sneaking into the library after curfew!" Hermione sounded excited, as though she had just solved a great mystery; but then her face fell as though a new mystery had popped up to take its place, "But if you found what you were looking for the first time you saw this book, why would someone send it to you with that particular spell marked?"

"Hermione…just let it go."

"It all comes back to that spell," she said, moving over to stand in front of him with her hands on her hips, "Why do you need to be able to see with your eyes closed? Why would having your eyes _open_ be a bad thing?"

Ron refused to look at her or acknowledge her. He quickly began stuffing his homework and textbooks into his schoolbag, intent on taking the ancient spellbook and retiring to his dorm where he wouldn't be subject to Hermione's questions.

"Are you doing something dangerous that you need to be able to see without opening your eyes?" she asked, looking pensive as she tried to figure out what was going on, "Or is it for some stupid prank you plan to pull…to get back at Malfoy, perhaps?"

Ron continued to ignore her as he continued to hastily pack his schoolbag and Hermione continued talking.

"You're planning to use this spell to break the rules, aren't you?" she asked in her haughtiest, bossiest voice, "You really should know better by now."

"Will you just give it up?!" he shouted, slamming his schoolbag down on the table in frustration, "I can't _tell you_ what it's for! But yes, it's dangerous, okay?! And that bloody spell might just be the thing that keeps me alive! Alright, Hermione? Alright?!"

"Al-alright, Ron," Hermione squeaked, cowed and frightened by his outburst. She backed away from him as tears started to form in the corners of her eyes.

Ron had never gone spare with Hermione like that before, and he could tell that he had scared her. He felt bad about it…horrible, really…but she just wouldn't let it drop. He just hoped that _now_ she would leave it alone, especially since he knew for a fact that he had _definitely_ told her too much this time.

Before Ron could say another word, Hermione turned on her heel and bolted for the girls' staircase and disappeared up into her dormitory. Ron sighed and dropped down onto the couch.

"Well, I really made a pig's ear of _that_," he said, closing his eyes and resting his head on the back of the couch. He was pretty sure he had just ruined all the progress he had made in his developing friendship with Hermione. He was fairly certain she would go back to not talking to him…or worse, avoiding him altogether.

* * *

Ron wasn't wrong. For the next week, every time he joined his usual little group at the end of the Gryffindor table for meals, Hermione was conspicuously absent.

"She's in the library," Neville said when Ron asked him about Hermione's whereabouts, "Said she had a very important project she needed to work on. I reckon it must be for Ancient Runes or Arithmancy, since I don't recall any project being assigned in the classes we have with her.

Ron wondered if there really was a school project for her to work on, or if it was just a convenient excuse for her to keep away from him. Either way, it was effective; Ron only saw Hermione in class the entire week.

Hermione may have been avoiding him, but Ron was kept too busy to dwell on it. On the mission side of things, the spell he needed to learn had a very intricate and complex wand movement, and he wanted to have it down pat by the time he entered the Chamber of Secrets. His time was also taken up with the everyday life of being Ron Weasley.

Angelina called a special emergency tryout on Friday. The fallout of the incident with Cormac McLaggen left a gaping hole in the Gryffindor Quidditch team. The team needed a Seeker and fast, leading Angelina to hold the tryout as soon as possible…and she expected the whole team to be there as a show of solidarity.

A large number of Gryffindors – ranging from first to seventh years – turned out for a shot at becoming the team's Seeker, but one of the fourth years stood out above the rest. Despite her older hand-me-down broom, Ginny performed better than any of the other potential players, and she was quickly chosen as the team's new Seeker. Angelina was ecstatic to have four Weasleys on her team, and Ron was relieved to have a Seeker on the team that he knew he could count on. Even he found himself looking forward to the team's next outing.

On Saturday, after sequestering himself away in his dorm room, Ron finally managed to get the spell's wand motion down enough that he could cast the Sight of the Unseeing charm over and over without fail.

Once he'd mastered the spell, Ron began walking around the room, eyes closed, getting a feel for what it was like to move around under the effects of the spell. It was an unusual sensation, being able to see with your eyes closed; it brought with it an odd sense of vertigo, and Ron found himself nearly falling over several times from the dizziness.

The very first time he nearly fell, Ron noticed a flaw in the usage of the spell. The moment he became unsure of his footing, his eyes instinctively flew open as he tried to steady himself. Making such a mistake while practicing in his dorm was harmless, if a bit annoying; doing so down in the Chamber of Secrets with a basilisk on the loose was potentially fatal.

"I'll have to make some sort of blindfold," he said as he went over his plan in his head, looking down at his bed and the items he'd gathered together for his sojourn down into the Chamber:

The Marauders' Map would allow him to keep tabs on Harry and make sure the Slytherin was in class like he was supposed to be. He didn't need Harry showing up unexpectedly. Ron didn't know how Harry would react to him being down in the Chamber, but he didn't think the bespectacled boy would be too happy about it.

The invisibility cloak would keep him relatively hidden and somewhat safe. Of course, he remembered _the other Harry_ saying something about the basilisk still chasing him after it had been blinded…something about it still being able to hear him or smell him or something; so the cloak wasn't absolute protection.

His broom would be needed to get back out of the Chamber. Fawkes the Phoenix had flown them out back in Second Year, but Ron wasn't counting on that sort of help this time around. He didn't even know how the phoenix had gotten there last time…it just seemed to appear just when it was needed. It was a lucky coincidence that Ron knew he couldn't rely on happening again.

The old spellbook was on his bed as well, and while he wouldn't be taking the ancient text with him, he had the two spells marked that he was reasonably sure he was going to need. Sight of the Unseeing would keep him safe from the basilisk's deadly gaze…or, at least, that was the plan…and Magnum's Stunner was used on large-scale monsters like dragons, giants, and trolls; the basilisk, at fifty feet long, certainly counted as large-scale, so hopefully the advanced Stunning spell would work on it.

He'd need to add a blindfold to his gear as soon as possible. Ron's plan was to enter the Chamber Monday morning after everyone…especially Harry…had gone to class. He'd miss out on History of Magic and Potions, but he didn't much care for those classes anyway. He'd have until lunch…when Harry typically took a trip down into the Chamber instead of eating in the Great Hall…to enter the Chamber of Secrets, find Tom Riddle's diary, and then get back out.

Once he had the diary in his possession, Ron planned to destroy it in a more secure and controlled environment…preferably Dumbledore's office. But that was getting ahead of himself. Step One was entering the Chamber, Step Two was finding the diary…he had to get those two steps taken care of before he could worry about Step Three, destroying the diary, freeing Harry Potter from You-Know-Who's control, and saving the entire world in the process.

"Ron!"

The sound of Neville's voice calling to him from the doorway startled Ron out of his thoughts. He turned quickly to face Neville, moving his body to block the other boy's view of the items on his bed.

"What is it, Nev?"

"Uh…Hermione's down in the common room and she's a bit put-out," Neville explained, looking a tad bit nervous as he glanced over his shoulder, back down the steps, "Seems it's your night to patrol, and you're supposed to leave in about five minutes."

"Bloody Hell, Nev…I forgot," Ron said, shaking his head at himself for losing track of time, "Tell her I'll be down in a minute."

Once Neville left the room, Ron very quickly stashed everything that he'd had laid out on his bed inside his trunk, locking it before leaving the dorm room to start his patrol with Hermione. She was waiting for him outside the portrait hole when he got downstairs, and he thought for sure she was going to be angry with him once he joined her.

He was stunned…but pleasantly so…to find that she wasn't angry with him at all.

"I was worried you were going to be late," Hermione said once he'd joined her, "But you made it with two minutes to spare."

"Sorry about that, I had some stuff to take care of up in my dorm," Ron said, wondering if she was waiting for him to let his guard down before she started yelling at him.

"All day, by yourself? Whatever were you doing up there, Ronald?" she asked with a cheeky smile on her face.

Ron blushed at what he thought she might be implying. "Err…"

"Forget it," she laughed, shaking her head, "Let's just start our patrol."

Ron followed her as Hermione headed for the main staircase. Prefect patrol consisted of two sets of prefects, one from either Gryffindor or Ravenclaw, and one from either Hufflepuff or Slytherin. The Gryffindors or Ravenclaws patrolled from the fourth floor up to the towers, while the Hufflepuffs or Slytherins patrolled from the dungeons up to the third floor. It had always been that way, and Ron had expected it to go that way tonight.

Needless to say when Hermione passed the fourth floor landing and continued on down the stairs, Ron was a bit confused.

"Hermione, where are you going?" Ron asked, "We're supposed to start on the fourth floor…you know that better than anybody!"

"Oh, Ron, there's no rule that says we can't patrol an extra floor or two," Hermione replied, continuing determinedly down the steps.

"Remember that next time Malfoy and Pansy decide to stroll up to the seventh floor and snoop around on their patrol night. Of course, if he did, it would give me a reason to hex the little ferret," he grumbled, not sure what had gotten into the brunette, but definitely getting a bad feeling about it.

"I told you before, Ron," she said scathingly over her shoulder, "As a prefect, you must set an example, and that means _not_ attacking another student, _especially_ another prefect…no matter how much he might deserve it."

"Says the prefect who turned _fellow prefect_ Pansy Parkinson into a beagle in front of the whole school," he joked.

Hermione stopped to glare at him so quickly that she nearly lost her footing and stumbled down the steps. "I turned her into a _pug_, not a beagle, and I received a week's detention for that – as I should have – or don't you remember?"

"The _easiest_ week's worth of detention in the history of Hogwarts," Ron said with a smirk, "Look it up…I bet it's in _Hogwarts, A History_ as we speak!"

Hermione didn't dignify his comment with a response, instead turning her nose up in the air and resuming her journey down the steps with Ron following behind her, grinning cheekily as he teased her.

"Come on, 'Mione…you know you want to hex Malfoy as much as I do…or maybe you'd just like to punch him in the nose again, like Third Year."

"Draco Malfoy is an intolerant bigot who will no doubt get what's coming to him one day," Hermione replied stiffly, obviously not amused by Ron's teasing.

"I'll do my be--…" Ron's words were cut off as they exited the main staircase onto the second floor landing and heading for a hallway that was all too familiar to Ron. "What are we doing _here_?" he asked with a sense of foreboding as they made their way down the hall towards Moaning Myrtle's bathroom.

Hermione didn't answer Ron's question, however, and continued down the hall until she was only a few yards away from the lavatory door, standing in front of an alcove that housed an old suit of armor. Ron came to stand behind her, too busy keeping an eye on the door to Myrtle's bathroom to notice that Hermione seemed entranced by the armor.

_"Does she know what I'm going to do? Is that why she brought me here?"_

"This is where it happened, isn't it?"

The sound of Hermione's voice caused Ron to jump, startled. Her voice was only the barest whisper, but in the deserted hallway, as tense as Ron was, it might as well have been the loudest, most boisterous shout imaginable.

"Wh-what?" he stammered, turning his attention to her.

"You had detention and were cleaning this suit of armor," she said, running her hand over the metal breastplate, "You must have seen the eyes reflected in the metal, which is why you didn't die."

The other Ron's memories quickly flashed across his mind. This was, indeed, where _that Ron_ had been petrified by the basilisk. "Err…yeah…I reckon. Why are we _here_, Hermione?"

"The basilisk petrified you," Hermione continued, "And everyone thought Harry Potter had killed it. But you don't, do you? You think it's alive, and you're going looking for it."

"Wh-what?" Ron couldn't believe the words coming out of her mouth. He had screwed up. Hermione was not only onto him, she was very close to the truth.

When Hermione turned around to face him with tears in her eyes, Ron was struck dumb; not even a squeak could escape the lump in his throat. "Be honest with me, Ronald…you're hunting the basilisk, aren't you?"

* * *

**Author's End Notes:** Well, there you have it: Chapter 21. What did you think? Hopefully, you enjoyed it.

The next chapter will be up in two weeks. Hope you don't mind the wait!


	22. Reflective Descent

**Author's Notes****:** I really don't have a lot to say, so I won't beat around the bush. Everyone's been waiting for Ron's descent into the Chamber of Secrets, and here it is.

**Thanks****: **As usual, big thanks to everyone who has reviewed this story (515 and counting!). I could do this without the feedback of my readers (and those of you who consider yourselves my fans), but it certainly wouldn't be as enjoyable for me. Even bigger thanks to my beta CutewithAcapital-Q who is not only a really wonderful sounding board for my ideas, but a really good friend as well.

**Disclaimer****: **It all belongs to JKR, not me.

* * *

_**MIRROR, MIRROR**_

**Chapter 22**

"**Reflective Descent"**

Ron didn't know what to say. He had really stuffed things up this time. Hermione was on his trail, and while she wasn't exactly correct with her assertions, she was certainly headed in the right direction.

"Hermione…"

"Don't. Don't lie to me, don't try to change the subject, and don't try to get into a row with me so I'll run off crying and forget all about this," Hermione said, harshly wiping at the tears that were staining her cheeks, "I want the truth from you, Ronald Weasley…and I want it now."

Ron stood there, gaping at her openly. What could he say? The truth was too insane to believe. He barely believed it himself at times, and he was living it. She had her arms crossed and she was tapping her foot impatiently. The tears will still there, though she seemed to be holding them at bay at the moment.

"Well…?" she asked tersely.

"W-what makes you think I'm hunting the basilisk?" he asked lamely.

She glared at him. "You really want me to spell it out for you?"

"If you don't mind, yeah," he said, chuckling in an attempt to relieve the tension; though as he saw her expression darken even further towards him, he realized she didn't think it was a laughing matter.

"By your own admission," Hermione began, her voice remaining stern and caustic, "You're about to do something dangerous. You were fairly screaming at me when you said it, and I've noticed that you're at your most honest when you let your temper get the best of you…so I know you weren't lying."

Hermione started pacing now, back-and-forth, across the hallway. Ron could do nothing but mutely watch her. "You also said…or yelled, rather…that the _Sight of the Unseeing_ spell might keep you alive while doing this dangerous thing. There really can't be that many situations where keeping your eyes _closed_ in a dangerous situation could be life-saving."

Ron couldn't help himself; he released an amused snort at her comment. Of course, he shut up quickly as she turned on her heel and once again fixed him with a steely glare. He allowed her to continue, knowing that he'd need time to think of something to tell her. What he wanted to tell her was the truth, to tell her everything; but he knew he couldn't, for her own safety…but he desperately wanted to.

"I spent the last week in the library doing research," she went on, going back to pacing, "Trying to find situations that would be dangerous, yet would be safer if done with one's eyes closed. My first thought was that you were going after Draco Malfoy for what he did during the Quidditch match; but honestly, a wizard's duel with your eyes closed…even if you _could_ see…would be stupid. And having your eyes closed certainly wouldn't defend you against the spells he might use."

Ron found himself nodding along, almost hypnotized by her explanation. She was a force to be reckoned with when she got going, and it was obvious there was no stopping her until she was done…and the truth was revealed.

"So then I started going through texts on magical creatures, and really, the only thing in _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_ that would be deadly if looked at is the basilisk," she said matter-of-factly, "However, I didn't want to put all my eggs in one basket, so to speak, so I checked other magizoology texts. None of the other creatures that I found that _might_ be safer to face with your eyes closed have ever been sighted in Britain. That brought me back to the basilisk."

She turned back to Ron as if expecting him to say something. Ron, however, remained silent, prompting Hermione to continue.

"Harry Potter supposedly killed the basilisk in the Chamber of Secrets back in Second Year," she said, watching Ron as if awaiting a reaction that did not come, "But I think that's nonsense. He said he blasted it to bits with his wand…but considering he pays about as much attention in class as _you do_, it's impossible for me to believe that he would know that kind of powerful spell as a second year."

"It's no secret you don't like Harry Potter," Hermione continued, no longer waiting for Ron to reply, "You two have been butting heads for years. I think you _knew_ he couldn't have possibly killed the basilisk, and you decided to either show him up by killing it yourself, or get revenge on the thing for petrifying you."

"That's mental!" Ron laughed at Hermione's theories, "I'm not stupid enough to go off seeking revenge on a fifty-foot snake and I certainly don't care about making Harry Potter look bad."

He was almost relieved at the ridiculous conclusions she had come to, but he couldn't quite relax. She was still much too close to the truth; he _would_ be going down into the Chamber and he stood a very good chance of facing off against the basilisk…just not for revenge.

"Then why did you sneak into the Slytherin dungeon?!" Hermione snapped, her hands immediately traveling to her hips as she stood in a typical confrontational pose Ron had seen many times before, "I don't believe for a second that it was just to set off dungbombs! You were down there looking for clues to find the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets. Admit it!"

"No, I won't admit something so barmy!" Ron scoffed, grinning at her.

"It's why you didn't get in trouble!" Hermione shrieked, stomping her foot. Ron arched his eyebrows at her outburst; obviously she did not like being wrong, "Dumbledore _knew_ you were down there looking for clues…and he _knows_ that going after the basilisk will help the school…_and_ he knows if it comes out that the basilisk has been alive all this time and he did nothing, it would cause an uproar! It all makes sense!! He even sent you the book that would help you!!"

"How did you know that?" Ron asked, before he could stop himself. It was the one thing Hermione had gotten exactly right, and the shock of it caused Ron to speak without thinking.

"Aha! You admit it!!" Hermione exclaimed, jumping up-and-down, "I knew it as soon as I saw that note fall out of the book. The handwriting matched the handwriting on the note that your owl delivered to you weeks ago…the one telling you to meet someone who just _had_ to be Dumbledore."

"How did you know what those notes said?" he asked, narrowing his eyes at her, "I never showed them to you."

"I…read them…over your shoulder," she admitted, blushing, "But that's beside the point! I'm right…admit it!!"

"Fine…you're right about the book," Ron conceded, "But that's it!"

"No!" Hermione shouted, "No, I'm right about the rest of it, too! You're going after the basilisk!!"

"Merlin's pants, Hermione, keep your bloody voice down!" he snapped, reaching over and clamping a hand over her mouth, "Even if I was going after the basilisk, I wouldn't want you shouting about it so loud that the Fat Lady could hear you all the way up on the seventh floor!"

"Sorry," she said quietly, blushing, once Ron removed his hand.

Before another word could pass between them, a voice like fingernails on a chalkboard announced the presence of two new arrivals in the second floor hallway.

"I told you I heard voices, Draco…and look what we have here," Pansy Parkinson said with a malicious grin on her pug-nosed face.

"Well, well…Granger and Weaselbee…you're out of bounds," Draco Malfoy said sneering at the Gryffindors with his wand out and aimed at them, "I think we'll have to give you detention and deduct some house points."

"I think we should just hex them!" Pansy added, pulling out her own wand and pointing it directly at Hermione's chest, "See how _she_ likes being turned into a dog."

"Like you'd be _able_ to cast that spell," Hermione scoffed defiantly.

"Let's find out," Pansy said, narrowing her eyes wickedly.

"Sod off, Pansy!" Ron said shoving the Slytherin girl's wand aside and stepping past her, grabbing Hermione's hand and pulling her along with him, "We're on patrol."

"Not down here you're not, Weasel," Malfoy said, keeping his wand trained on Ron, "You're patrol route doesn't bring you down this far. Down here, you're just a couple of Gryffindors wandering around where you don't belong."

"Try making that detention stick, you little tosser," Ron said hatefully, glaring at Malfoy as he pushed past him as well, "We're done down here."

"I'd be careful who I turned my back on if I were you, Weaselbee," Malfoy warned in a voice that was laced with menace, "You might wind up having a repeat of your last Hogsmeade visit."

"That was _you_?" Ron asked stiffly, stopping in his tracks and turning to face Malfoy once more, "I should have known."

"_What_ was me?" Malfoy replied with a leering grin, "I heard you had an _accident_ walking back from the village. I simply meant it would be a shame if you had _another_ accident. Who knows…you might actually _miss_ your next Quidditch match…and that would be a shame; who then would we sing for?"

Ron started to lunge for Malfoy, but Hermione had a firm grip on his arm, doing her best to hold him back. Malfoy sneered with venomous glee while Pansy cackled gratingly.

"Ron, no!" Hermione cried, tugging hard on his arm, "It's not worth it!"

"Better listen to her, Weasel," Malfoy prodded, "After all, you have no proof that I actually _did_ anything. So, take your Mudblood whor—AHHH!"

The sickening crack of Draco Malfoy's nose breaking under Ron's fist and the pale-blonde Slytherin's cries of pain echoed off the stone walls of the castle corridor, mixing with the cacophonous shrieks of Pansy Parkinson.

The instant the word "Mudblood" had left Malfoy's mouth, Ron had broken free of Hermione's hold and had pounced on him. Tackling him to the floor, Ron knelt over Malfoy, looming over him menacingly as the Slytherin bled all over himself.

"_Never_ call her that again," Ron spat, his face frighteningly close to Malfoy's, as the blonde boy gazed up at him with teary eyes and a stricken expression.

Hermione stood, frozen and struck dumb, as the scene played out in front of her. Pansy, too, remained glued to her spot, but she was anything but quiet. She continued to shriek in fear and distress and no doubt disgust at the blood which painted Draco's alabaster visage.

As Ron got to his feet, Pansy shakily aimed her wand at him, as if to hex him where he stood. Ron pretended to lunge at her, too and Pansy shrieked once more, dropped her wand, and ducked into the alcove, cowering behind the suit of armor he and Hermione had been standing in front of earlier.

Without another word, Ron turned and grabbed Hermione's hand, dragging her back down the hallway towards the staircase. They broke into a run and didn't stop until they were on the fourth floor, sitting on the floor in an empty classroom with their backs against the wall, catching their breath. Ten minutes passed before either spoke. It was Ron who broke the silence.

"How much you wanna bet _I_ don't get a cushy detention grading papers all week?" he joked, lightly banging his head against the wall behind him.

"You'll be lucky if you don't get expelled," she replied, her voice gravely serious, "I can't believe you did that after I told you it wasn't worth it!"

He shook his head as she scolded him, "No…you said it wasn't worth it to hit him for what he did to me…and you were right. However, it was _totally_ worth it to break that little wanker's nose for what he said about _you_."

"Ron…"

"Nobody gets away with calling my best friend _that word_," Ron said, locking eyes with her, "_Nobody_."

Their eyes remained locked for what seemed an eternity until Hermione blushed deeply and turned away. The spell broken, Ron looked down at his hands. The knuckles of his right hand were scraped and there was blood – Malfoy's blood – spattered across his freckled skin.

"So, we're _best friends_ now, are we?" Hermione asked, her voice sounding strange to him as she hugged her knees to her chest and rested her chin atop them, staring at the teacher's desk at the front of the room, "Since when?"

"I reckon since you turned Pansy into a dog for _me_, and I rearranged Malfoy's face for _you_," he said, shrugging as he stretched his long legs out in front of him, also looking straight ahead.

"If we're best friends, Ron…you have to be honest with me," she said in a quiet voice that sounded as though she were fighting back tears, "I don't want to see you get hurt."

"Hermione…" Ron sighed, banging his head again, "If I could tell you the truth, I would."

"Why _can't_ you?" Hermione asked, turning to face him, sounding anxious.

Ron took a deep breath. He wanted to tell her. He'd wanted to tell her for months now…to bring her in and have Hermione on his side once again…just like on _that other world_. But Dumbledore didn't _want_ Hermione to know…he didn't want _anyone_ to know, outside of the people _he_ deemed worthy. People like Snape. That thought had Ron gritting his teeth.

Snape was a former Death Eater…or, at least, that's what he wanted everyone to think…serving as a spy for the Order of the Phoenix. But what made _him_ more trustworthy than Hermione…just because Dumbledore said so? Dumbledore makes mistakes…he said so himself. _This_ could be just another of those mistakes…not wanting Ron to trust anyone that he, Dumbledore, didn't choose himself.

Ron didn't agree with Dumbledore; he hadn't agreed with Dumbledore since the moment he set foot here. He recalled going off on the old wizard on more than one occasion…so why was he toeing Dumbledore's line now? When did he become so agreeable?

"Ron…?" Hermione's voice brought him out of his thoughts. She had asked him a question and she was obviously awaiting an answer. "Why can't you tell me the truth?"

"Dumbledore doesn't want me to," he admitted, coming to a decision. He might not tell her _everything_, since he didn't think she'd believe him, but he _would_ tell her some things, "He says telling you what's going on could put you in danger…and I agree with him."

"But…"

"No. Listen, Hermione," Ron said sternly, grabbing her arms and holding her in place, "You think you know what's going on…but you don't; not exactly. Yes, I might be running into the basilisk soon…but not because I'm hunting it for revenge."

"Then why?" Hermione asked, concern evident in her voice, her eyes desperately searching his for an answer, "Why would you take that kind of risk?"

Ron hesitated. Revealing his true purpose for going into the Chamber of Secrets was a giant step for him to take. Taking her into his confidence could put them both in serious danger…but having her on his side, helping him out…it would almost be worth it. Taking a deep breath, Ron spoke.

"There's something down in the Chamber of Secrets…something important…and Dumbledore needs _me_ to go get it. I'm going to do my best to avoid the basilisk, but just in case I run into that ruddy snake, I'll need that spell you saw…and another one in that old book…to try and get around it."

"What is it that you have to find?" she asked, worry etched across her features, "Why does it have to be you? Why can't Dumbledore do it himself?"

"I can't answer those questions," he said, shaking his head, "You already know too much and if I tell you any more, you could be in just as much danger as I am. I won't let that happen…I'd never forgive myself if something happened to you, 'Mione."

"But I can _help you_…I _can_!" she said emphatically, "I'm so good at research, Ron, maybe I could find something _else_ you can use against the basilisk!"

"Hermione…"

"No, please…I want to help!"

"I know you do, and I really appreciate that, but –"

"Ronald Weasley, if you don't let me help you, I swear, I will tell someone…I'll…I'll tell your mother! I'm sure she'd be very interested in knowing what sort of danger Dumbledore is putting you in!"

Ron couldn't help the amused snort that escaped. She was trying everything to convince him, even rolling out the major firepower. Molly Weasley was an unstoppable force, and were this _that other world_, he might be concerned by Hermione's threat. But this wasn't _that world_, and he was fairly certain Molly Weasley didn't care what happened to him.

"Even if you _did_ tell her, it wouldn't matter; I'm still going."

Hermione narrowed her eyes and pursed her lips into a hard line. "You're a stubborn idiot, you know that?"

"Yeah, I know," he said, nodding. He let go of her and sat back against the wall, closing his eyes. Ron knew that she was in no way happy with his refusal to let her help, but there was no way he was going to put her life on the line when it didn't need to be. As much as he wanted things to be happy and friendly between the two of them, he'd settle for her being angry with him, so long as she was safe.

Silence settled over them for several minutes with the two of them simply sitting against the wall, lost in their own thoughts. It was Hermione who broke the silence when she suddenly got to her feet and began walking towards the door leading out of the classroom.

"We'd better get back to our patrol," she said, stopping with her hand on the doorknob, looking back over her shoulder at Ron, "We're likely to be in enough trouble once Draco and Pansy report us, so we shouldn't add abandoning our patrol to the list of rules we broke."

Ron looked at her for a moment, just watching her as she stood there. Finally he nodded and got to his feet joining her at the door.

"Don't worry about it, Hermione," he said as they re-entered the fourth floor hallway, "You didn't really break any rules and since I was the one that broke Malfoy's nose, I'll make sure you don't get any of the blame."

"Good luck with that," Hermione said, shaking her head, "Professor Snape may not give _you_ detention, thanks to what you're doing for Dumbledore, but once Malfoy runs off to tell him what happened – with a load of extra lies to make it all sound so much worse than it already is – I'll be scrubbing out cauldrons for the next month using _my own_ toothbrush."

Ron chuckled in spite of himself. He was relieved that they were still talking to one another, and on friendly terms…or so it seemed to him. He had worried that his rejection of her offers to help would have led her to once again avoid or ignore him.

"I promise, Hermione. I'll take care of it."

* * *

Sunday morning at breakfast, Ron was given his chance to make good on his promise. As Ron, Hermione, Neville, and Ginny sat at the end of the Gryffindor table eating their morning meal and talking amongst themselves, Professor Snape approached them in a flourish of black robes with a wickedly grinning Malfoy in tow.

"Weasley, Granger, stand up," Snape ordered curtly, his dark goatee quivering as he spoke. Ron and Hermione shared a look before doing as the Potions master said. "Mr. Malfoy has informed me that the two of you were outside of your posted patrol area last night and when he and Miss Parkinson attempted to question you about the situation the two of you attacked him and Miss Parkinson."

"Mr. Malfoy is a bloody wanker who needs to learn to keep his filthy little mouth shut," Ron growled, looking over Snape's shoulder and shooting a death-glare at the blonde Slytherin.

"Ten points from Gryffindor for language, Weasley," Snape hissed, "You should take your own advice about keeping your mouth shut."

Hermione grabbed Ron's arm as if to quiet him down before he got himself…or the both of them…in even more trouble. "It's true, Professor, that we were off our normal route last night…but before we could explain ourselves to them, Draco and Pansy pulled their wands and started threatening us."

"Obviously, Mr. Malfoy and Miss Parkinson had reason to believe that you would behave hostilely towards them," Snape said, sounding bored with Hermione's explanation, "They pulled their wands for their own protection, no doubt."

"_Their_ protection?!" Hermione exclaimed, exasperated, "Malfoy all but admitted to attacking Ron outside of Hogsmeade last month!"

"Mr. Malfoy has already been questioned concerning Weasley's accident," Snape sneered at Hermione, "And he has two witnesses who will vouch for his whereabouts. Now, if you will stop stalling, we can get to the matter…and the _punishment_…at hand."

Ron grabbed Hermione's wrist and pulled her back, giving her a quick look as if to tell her to shut up and let him handle things as he stepped between her and Snape. He glared at the Potions master and jutted his chin out defiantly before speaking up.

"I broke the little ferret's nose, and I'll bloody well do it again, too," Ron admitted, shooting a significant look of menace towards Malfoy, "As for Pansy…she was _born_ with that face, you can't blame us for _that_."

Ginny and Neville, as well as other nearby students at the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff tables laughed at Ron's comment about Pansy, making Snape just look angrier as he stood face-to-face with Ron.

"Twenty-five points from Gryffindor for cheek," the Potions master sneered at Ron, "And I hope you've eaten your fill, Weasley; you'll be coming with me for detention…now."

Snape had just turned with a flourish of his black robes and was about to stride away, when he turned back to face Hermione.

"Oh, and Miss Granger…fifty points from Gryffindor for whatever part you played in the attack on Mr. Malfoy and Miss Parkinson. A know-it-all such as yourself should have _known_ better. Come, Weasley."

Ron growled as he reached down and threw a handful of sausages into a napkin and stuffed them in his pocket. He gave Hermione a halfhearted smile and waved at Neville and Ginny before heading off to face whatever detention the vindictive head of Slytherin had come up with for him.

* * *

By the time Ron returned the to Gryffindor common room, he was exhausted. Snape had kept him locked up in the Potions classroom for twelve straight hours…the length of time it took Ron to clean the classroom from top to bottom.

He knew he was in for it when Snape led him away from the Great Hall; there had never been any love lost between Ron and the Potions professor, and after the _last_ detention he'd served with Snape, they were even more adversarial to each other; a situation which only worsened when Ron dungbombed the Slytherin common room.

As Ron took a look at the Potions dungeon, he knew Snape was extracting a measure of revenge, not only for him breaking Malfoy's nose the night before, but also for the prank he had previously gone unpunished for. When Snape handed him a bucket of water and an old scrub brush and told him "no magic", Ron knew he had a long day ahead of him.

A thick layer of viscous, foul-smelling slime covered the floor, walls, and ceiling, and every single cauldron in the room was encrusted with a dried, crunchy layer of the stuff, as though the slime had been cooking unattended in each of the cauldrons for hours until all the liquid had boiled away and the remains were left to burn.

The scene reminded him of the first and only time the twins had attempted to cook dinner for the family. It had been soup which covered the walls, ceiling, and floor of the Burrow's cramped kitchen back then, instead of whatever the glop was that Ron would have to clean, but it was a similar visual. Of course, he suspected this would be much more difficult to clean than the twins' attempt at pea soup.

He was correct in his assumption. It had taken Ron the better part of twelve straight hours to clean the slime from every surface in the room. It had been difficult and disgusting, and even though he hadn't eaten since breakfast, the sight and smell of the goo he'd been cleaning had turned his stomach and left him without an appetite.

When he reached the common room, exhausted and filthy, all he wanted to do was crawl up the stairs to his dorm and pass out. Dinner was under way in the Great Hall, and the common room was all but deserted. The only person he encountered was Hermione, who had apparently been waiting for him. She ran up to him as soon as he made it through the portrait hole, and he knew sleep was still a long way off.

"There you are! Have you been in detention this whole ti—…oh, you stink!" Hermione covered her mouth and nose with her hand and took a step back from him.

"Cheers," he replied with a tired smile.

"I'm sorry," she said, her voice muffled by her hand, "But…"

"I know," he nodded, "I'm just gonna grab a shower and then get some sleep."

"Wait!"

Ron had turned and was about to head for the boys' staircase when Hermione called out to him. He turned, looking at her curiously, because she wore an expression that seemed one part desperation, one part excitement. However, his unfortunate stench was still too much for her and she clapped her hand over her face again, moving quickly around a table to put some distance between them.

"Stay there," Hermione said, reaching into her pocket with her free hand. She brought out a neatly folded piece of parchment, placed it on the table, and slid it across towards Ron, "Stay there…but _read that_."

Ron frowned slightly as he picked up the parchment. He was tired and he, too, was repulsed by the stench, so he really wanted to get a shower and some sleep, but since she had obviously been waiting for him to arrive, Ron decided to humor Hermione.

"After breakfast, I went to the library and did some more research on basilisks," Hermione explained as he unfolded the parchment, "I found that information in an ancient text on magical creatures from around the world; I thought it might be useful to you."

Ron looked down at the parchment in his hand; he recognized it immediately. It was the very same page that he and Harry had pried from Hermione's petrified fingers back in Second Year.

"You tore this out of a book," Ron said, looking almost mesmerized by the page in his hand. He was referring to what had happened in _the other dimension_, but Hermione didn't know that.

"I most certainly did not!" she said indignantly, "I would never defile a book by ripping out a page…especially one of the ancient texts in the school library. I used a spell to copy it."

He looked up, almost ready to correct her and explain what he meant; he was so tired, he was having a hard time concentrating on what was real and what was the role he had to play. The look on Hermione's face shut him up; she was expectant and hopeful…she really was trying to help.

"I've read this before, Hermione," he told her, refolding the page and holding it out for her to take, "I really don't see how helpful it will be."

"Just listen, then," she said, taking the paper, unfolding it, and reading it aloud.

"_Of the many fearsome beasts and monsters that roam our land, there is none more curious or more deadly than the Basilisk, known also as the King of Serpents. This snake, which may reach gigantic size and live many hundreds of years, is born from a chicken's egg, hatched beneath a toad. Its methods of killing are most wondrous, for aside from its deadly and venomous fangs, the Basilisk has a murderous stare, and all who are fixed with the beam of its eye shall suffer instant death. Spiders flee before the Basilisk, for it is their mortal enemy, and the Basilisk flees only from the crowing of the rooster, which is fatal to it._"

"If you think I'm gonna follow the bloody spiders again, you can forget it," Ron said, tiredly rubbing his eyes once she had finished reading, "I'm not about to offer those things another chance at making a meal out of me."

"What are you talking about spiders?" Hermione asked, looking at him bemusedly, "Didn't you hear what I said? The basilisk _flees_ from the crowing of the _rooster_ because it will _kill it_."

"Roosters? That's bloody men—" Ron cut himself off as something from Second Year flashed through his head. Hagrid's roosters kept being killed. The half-giant thought it was either a fox or a Blood-Sucking Bugbear…but it had been Ginny…killing roosters because _they_ could kill the basilisk. "Bloody Hell! How can something so simple…? It really _is_ mental! Roosters!"

Hermione smiled in satisfaction as she watched Ron. "I told you I could help."

Ron nodded. There had never been a shadow of a doubt in his mind that Hermione could help. He knew her far too well to doubt her ability to be of help to him on his mission. If it were up to him…and Hermione wouldn't be placed in harm's way…it would be _their_ mission.

"You were a _huge_ help, 'Mione," Ron said, doing his best to make sure she knew he appreciated her efforts, "There's just one problem; I don't think Hagrid'll be too keen on lending me one of his roosters. And even if he does, hauling a live rooster through the castle isn't what you call inconspicuous."

Hermione rolled her eyes and pulled out her wand. "You never pay attention in Professor McGonagall's class, do you?"

She waved her wand at one of the pillows on a nearby couch and called out a spell incantation. The pillow immediately transformed into a live rooster and began frantically running around the common room flapping its wings and making an awful racket. It took them several minutes to catch the thing so Hermione could change it back.

"See? It's easy," Hermione said with a tired grin, brushing feathers out of her hair as she sat heavily on the couch.

Ron shook his head. _Easy_ for Hermione was often far from easy for _normal_ people; it was just one of the things he admired about her. He pulled his wand from his pocket. "You'd better show me that spell again; I'm going to need to practice it 'til I get it right."

"I'll help you for as long as it takes," Hermione said, getting to her feet, "But first, you have to do me a favor."

Ron narrowed his eyes, leery of what sort of favor she could ask of him. "What is it?"

"Go take a shower…now."

* * *

They practiced what Ron came to call the _"Chicken Spell"_ – much to Hermione's chagrin – for the rest of the night. This eventually led to a common room full of disgruntled Gryffindors once everyone returned from dinner, with the possible exception of the twins. However, Ron and Hermione continued at it until he could cast the spell reliably on his own nearly every time he tried it.

By the time Ron fell, exhausted, into his bed, his mind was abuzz with nervous excitement for his journey into the Chamber. He quickly fell asleep, though his mind continued to dwell on what lay ahead of him; his dreams were full of images of him battling the basilisk in the Chamber of Secrets, including one in which he rode in on a giant rooster like a knight on horseback.

Morning came much too quickly for Ron's liking, and he dragged his feet getting dressed. Neville, Dean, and Seamus had all left the dorm by the time Ron was tying his shoes. He checked the clock, assuring himself that most students would already be in the Great Hall eating breakfast. He then took out the Marauders' Map to make sure that was actually the case.

As usual, the garbled name tag that represented Harry Potter was absent from mealtime in the Great Hall, and was absent from every visible room in the castle; Ron would have to wait for his name to appear.

It wasn't until about five minutes before the day's first class that Harry appeared on the map, seeming to just suddenly pop into existence inside the second floor girls' bathroom. Ron watched the map as Harry left Moaning Myrtle's loo and headed off to his first period.

Once he was sure Harry was out of the way, Ron began packing his beat-up old rucksack with the equipment he would need for his mission: the map, a blindfold he'd transfigured from an old tie, and a balled-up old jumper he would transfigure into a rooster when he reached the Chamber. He shoved the notes on the three spells – Magnum's Stunner, Sight of the Unseeing, and the Chicken Spell – into his pocket along with his wand for ready access. He swung the invisibility cloak over himself and did his best to hide his Cleansweep beneath it.

It was an awkward journey down from Gryffindor tower. He'd never tried concealing such an unwieldy object as a broom under the cloak before. Ordinarily, he would just sling the broom over his shoulder, but doing so this time would lead to a broom seeming to mysteriously float down around the castle.

Soon enough, though, Ron was in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, staring at the sink that concealed the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets. The etched snake on the copper tap immediately caught his eye. He hadn't had the opportunity to practice this part of his plan, and he really didn't know if it was going to work.

He thought back to the noises he'd heard Harry make when opening the entrance to the Chamber. Taking a deep breath he made what he thought was the right sound.

_"Heshaaasssa!"_

Nothing happened. He tried again.

_"Hessssssassshah!"_

Again, nothing happened. He tried six more times, but each time, the entrance to the Chamber didn't open. He was getting frustrated. All his preparations would be for nothing if he couldn't get the entrance to open up for him.

He took a step back from the sink and breathed deeply, trying to relax. He pictured Harry standing in front of the sink, hissing at it in Parseltongue. Eyes closed, still visualizing what he'd seen and heard, Ron tried one more time.

_"Hessshasssssah…"_

He jumped back at the sound of stone scraping on stone as the sink started to move, revealing the large open pipe leading far below the school. He'd done it; he'd managed to open the Chamber of Secrets. His feeling of triumph was tinged with a feeling of dread as now he really would be going down into the Chamber; he really would be walking headlong into the lair of the basilisk.

Kneeling down by the opening, Ron slid his broom in first, listening as the wood clanked and rattled around on its way down the long, dark pipe. He pulled his wand out and lit the tip, wanting to at least be able to see during his own descent down the pipe.

He took off the invisibility cloak and tucked it inside his rucksack, not wanting it to get damaged or come off and get lost during his fall. Ron hugged his bag and his wand close to his just as he moved into position.

Ron swung his legs into the gaping pipe opening, took a deep breath, and then hopped in. It was a tighter fit than he remembered, but, then, it _had_ been three years. Once he was fully inside the pipe, gravity took over and things started to feel like he had expected.

It was like rushing down an endless, slimy, dark slide. In the light of his wand, Ron caught sight of other, smaller pipes branching off of the one he was hurtling down, none of which were even close to the size of the one he was in. Ron grunted as the pipe began to twist and turn until it was angled so steeply that Ron plummeted straight down into the bowels of the castle, far below even the deepest of the school's dungeons.

After falling for what seemed like miles, the pipe finally leveled off and Ron shot out of the end with a wet _thud_. He landed roughly on the damp floor of a dark, stone tunnel that seemed all too familiar.

Ron got to his feet, covered in slime, raising his wand and taking a look around in the dim light at the tip. His Cleansweep lay near his feet, also covered in slime; Ron retrieved the broom and took stock of his surroundings. Despite the light cast by the Lumos spell, Ron could only see a short distance ahead.

"Never thought I'd be down here again," Ron said to himself as his mind drifted back to Second Year when he, Harry, and an unwilling Gilderoy Lockhart had made the journey in search of Ron's sister, "But, then again, I never thought _any_ of the rubbish I've been through since coming here would happen."

The sound of Ron's voice as he talked to himself was the only sound to be heard as he started off down the tunnel, just as he had years before. And, just as had happened years before, the deafening sound of silence soon gave way to the unsettling noise of small animal bones _crunching_ under his feet the further he went.

Ron moved further and further down the tunnel, cringing with every bone-crunching step he took. As eerie as this place had seemed back in Second Year, it seemed even moreso now that he was down here all alone.

He soon came upon a monstrous snake skin stretched across the tunnel, and even though he had expected to see it, it still sent a tingle of fear rippling through him and made his heart beat faster. This is where his journey had ended in Second Year; when Lockhart had grabbed his wand and tried to Obliviate him and Harry, the broken wand had backfired and caused a cave-in, and only Harry had been able to go forward. Now, however, it was Ron's turn.

There hadn't been a cave-in _here_, so unlike before, Ron had a clear path ahead of him. Steeling himself for what might be around the next turn, Ron set off into unfamiliar territory, marching determinedly forward towards the Chamber of Secrets.

Ron followed the tunnel for what seemed like forever; it twisted and turned and twisted again, rather like the coils of a giant snake. The further he went, the more his whole body tingled nervously with anxious anticipation. He was wishing for the Chamber to appear already, while at the same time dreading actually reaching it for fear of what awaited him within.

After following the path of the winding tunnel for what felt to Ron like miles, he rounded one final bend and found himself looking straight ahead at a solid wall with carvings of two entwined serpents, their eyes set with great, shiny emeralds.

He'd heard about this wall from Harry; behind it lay the Chamber of Secrets. He knew what he had to do to open it, but first Ron prepared himself. He unpacked the invisibility cloak from his rucksack and donned it quickly, making sure that his broom remained hidden as well. He then pulled the blindfold from the bag and covered his eyes with it.

_"Caecus Visum!"_

Ron cast the _Sight of the Unseeing_ spell and immediately was able to see once more despite the blindfold across his eyes. The momentary sense of vertigo washed over him and was gone much more rapidly this time, thanks to his practice with the spell.

He approached the wall and ran his hand over the snakes, a shiver traveling down his spine. Just as he'd done up in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, he began imitating the sounds of Parseltongue. It only took Ron half as long to find the right series of sounds to get the snakes to part, the wall to crack open, and then slide smoothly out of sight.

Shaking from head-to-toe and battling with the combined sensation of wanting to vomit and wet himself at the same time, Ron took a deep breath and stepped inside the Chamber of Secrets.

Ron found himself standing at the very beginning of an extremely long, dimly lit chamber. The place was huge, and great stone pillars entwined with more carved snakes towered above him, disappearing up into the darkness above him where they supported the ceiling he couldn't see. The massive columns cast long black shadows through the eerie greenish gloom that filled the chamber.

There was no immediate sign of the basilisk, but the chamber was so large and so much of it was shrouded in darkness that the monstrous snake could have been lying in wait, just out of sight.

Ron took a step, wincing as the sound of his footsteps echoed loudly off the walls as he moved between the serpentine columns. He felt as though the carved stone snakes were watching him with their hollow, empty eye-sockets, and more than once he'd jumped upon thinking he saw one move.

He turned quickly and aimed his wand into the darkness when he thought he heard something hiss amidst the shadows. He held his breath and listened intently, but didn't hear anything again, so he chalked it up to nerves and continued on.

As Ron made his way to the last pair of massive pillars, he came upon a great stone statue standing against the back wall, looming above him as high as the chamber itself. The statue was of a wizard with an ancient, monkey-ish-looking face and think beard that nearly reached the bottom of the statue's stone robes.

_"Salazar Slytherin sure was an ugly old bastard,"_ Ron said to himself as he craned his neck to look up at the statue's face.

Ron had heard all about the Chamber two years ago, so he knew what to expect…even if it was still spine-tinglingly creepy. He knew about the columns, the stone snakes, and even the statue. However, the description he'd been given at the end of Second Year failed to mention what could only be called a throne sitting directly between the statue's massive feet, looking as it if was created from the very stone of the chamber floor. The description he'd received had also failed to mention the dark tunnel leading off to who knows where to the left of the throne, and a series of niches carved into the wall to the right of the throne.

These all seemed like important points of interest to Ron, but he could see how Harry might have forgotten to mention them; he _had_ just been running and fighting for his life and the life of Ginny. Still, the niches especially seemed interesting enough to merit a mention, considering the strange collection of items sitting in them.

Ron cautiously approached the niches in the wall, furrowing his brow at the items within. It was like some sort of twisted trophy shelf; each of the five items in the niches seemed mangled in some way: a ring, a cup, a necklace, a headband of some sort, and a book that Ron recognized immediately as Tom Riddle's diary.

"He's got a bloody knickknack shelf down here," Ron said as he examined each of the items closely. With the exception of Riddle's very ordinary-looking diary, each of the items looked important…if you ignored the fact that they were cracked, melted, warped, or in some other way deformed. He had no idea what the items were…or why they'd be displayed in such a manner when they were in such disrepair.

Ron picked the diary up out of its niche, noticing immediately that it was in much the same condition as the other items. The pages were warped, as if they'd been left to soak in water for some time. The leather cover was cracked and pieces were flaking off. The entire book had a singed look to it, like it had been placed too close to a fire.

Ron stuffed the book into his rucksack and was about to turn and leave when a sudden notion struck him. For whatever reason, these broken bits of jewelry and whatnot seemed important…otherwise, why put them on display? Whether they were important to Harry or to You-Know-Who, he wasn't sure, but they were important to someone. As a result, Dumbledore might want to get a closer look at them.

Before he could change his mind, Ron began stuffing the other items into his rucksack. He was just about to turn and make his way back out of the Chamber when a chilling sound filled the air; the sound of footsteps.

"Didn't your mother ever teach you to keep your hands off things that don't belong to you?"

* * *

**Author's End Notes****: **There you have part one of Ron's journey into the Chamber. Hope everyone enjoyed it. The next chapter is up in two weeks!

And before I forget, _**MIRROR, MIRROR**_ was nominated for Best AU fic for the 2009 R/Hr Awards over on LiveJournal! I'm totally stoked about that, and would personally like to thank whomever it was who nominated me.


	23. Reflections of Disaster

**Author's Notes****: **As I type this, it has been nearly three months since I lost posted a chapter for this story. I'm sure some of you thought I must've died (in fact, one of you sent me a message saying exactly that!). Well, as Paul McCartney once said, "The reports of my death have been greatly exaggerated."

While we're on the subject of Sir Paul, I've got a friend. Now, admittedly, this friend is quite the conspiracy nut – he once told me he was driving down the road late at night and was sure that a bunch of government sanctioned stealth helicopters were trailing him…no doubt trying to follow him to his stash of weapons…did I mention he's a gun nut as well? He once walked into the comic book store I was working in on a sluggishly slow Tuesday afternoon, pulled an automatic "street sweeper" shotgun and a LAW rocket from his duffel bag and said "Hey [Hawk], look what I got." Not a good day…though I certainly didn't have to worry about falling asleep on the job after that. Anyway, so my friend, he totally believes that Paul McCartney really _did_ die back in 1966. In fact, he refers to pre-1966 Paul McCartney as "real" Paul, and post-1966 Paul McCartney as "new" Paul. He's got a laundry list of "evidence" as well…he's even convinced two of my other friends that it's true.

Jesus…I gotta get new friends.

Anyway, back to what I was saying! I'm not dead. This chapter just kicked my ass, plain and simple. I had such a massive case of Writer's Block it wasn't even funny. The idea for the chapter was there…it was in my head…I could frickin' SEE IT when I closed my eyes…but it was LOCKED up there…it wouldn't come out no matter how hard I tried. And I tried. I tried for three frickin' months.

To quote Baby O from the Nicolas Cage explosiongasmic action film _Con Air_, it was time to "fight, fuck, or hit the fence". I decided to hit the fence. If my brain wasn't going to let me have Chapter 23 as I had originally imagineered it in my head, then fuck my brain! I'd work around my brain.

About a week ago, I started working on a new chapter…something I had given the working title of "Chapter 23-A"; admittedly, not an _original_ title, but I was past caring at that point.

Chapter 23-A deviated considerably from what I had envisioned for this chapter and, worse, it would completely require me to change several future chapters that were either already written or in the planning stages; simply put, Chapter 23-A was a game-changer. But it had to be done, if I was ever going to get back to work on this story.

The sad part about all this is that I wrote this chapter in less than a week after trying, painfully, to extract the original chapter from my brain. Three months were wasted, and I'm sure countless readers were disappointed. And worst of all, I didn't win that award my story was nominated for over on LiveJournal (not that losing had anything to do with me not getting this thing written on time…I just felt like pointing it out…maybe I'll incur some sympathy from my more faithful readers).

Anyway, it's three months late, it's completely different than what I had originally intended to write (well…except for the basilisk thing…that was _always_ gonna happen), but it's here. So without further ado (except for some Thank Yous and a Disclaimer), here it is: Chapter 23.

**Thank Yous****: **First, let me say a big _thank you_ to anyone who is still patiently awaiting this story's updates. I assure you, it hasn't been abandoned, it _won't_ be abandoned; I'll complete it no matter how many three-month-long breaks I have to take while fighting my own brain. Second, as usual, I want to thank CutewithAcapital-Q for being an awesome beta, who patiently waited for me to get this done, while being an excellent sounding board for any ideas I had. Thanks, Cutie…you're the cat's pajamas.

**Disclaimer****: **As always, the Harry Potter universe is J.K. Rowling's.

* * *

_**MIRROR, MIRROR**_

**Chapter 23 – "Reflections of Disaster"**

Ron turned to face the voice that had surprised him, and didn't know whether to laugh or yell at what he saw before him: Hermione Granger, walking towards him with her wand-tip lit and held above her head while wearing a blindfold.

"What in the name of Merlin's left shoe are you doing here, Hermione?" Ron exclaimed, pulling off the invisibility cloak and rushing over to the brunette.

"I followed you, of course," Hermione replied in a matter-of-fact tone.

"How could you follow me? I was invisible," he replied.

"I know," she said, nodding, "Is that an invisibility cloak? Where did you get it? I've read about those; they're supposed to be terribly rare." Hermione reached out and lightly touched the liquid-smooth texture of the silvery-grey cloak in Ron's hands.

"That doesn't matter right now, Hermione," Ron snapped, pulling the cloak away from her and stuffing it into his rucksack, "You didn't answer my question. How did you follow me if I was invisible?"

He saw her brow furrow and her mouth tighten into a harsh line, and he suspected that, beneath her blindfold, she was giving him a rather cross look for speaking to her in that tone and for snatching the cloak away from her before she could examine it thoroughly.

The fact that they were having this discussion while both being blindfolded seemed a bit asinine to Ron, so he canceled the _Sight of the Unseeing_ spell and whipped off his blindfold, prompting Hermione to do the same.

He was right. She _was_ giving him a cross look.

"When I saw that you were skipping breakfast," Hermione explained in a confrontational tone, fairly glaring at Ron, "I _knew_ you were going to do it today. I hid behind one of the suits of armor on the seventh floor and waited for you to pass by so I could follow you."

"But I was _invisible_!" he exclaimed in frustration.

"You were," she agreed, nodding, "Mostly. When I heard the portrait of the Fat Lady open and close, I knew you'd be passing me in a matter of moments on your way down the stairs…only, you didn't. All I saw was the tail end of a broom floating a few inches above the floor moving towards the stairs…that's when I realized you were somehow invisible."

"You followed my broom?"

Hermione nodded again, "Your cloak must have caught on your broom's bristles preventing it from covering your broom completely."

Ron couldn't believe he had been so careless. Anyone could have seen him and followed him to the Chamber of Secrets. The fact that Hermione had followed him, and not someone like Filch or Malfoy, was a stroke of luck.

"When I saw you entering the girl's lavatory, I was starting to wonder if you really _were_ going down into the Chamber of Secrets today," she continued, "Especially after the things Professor Umbridge said about you in class."

Ron rolled his eyes and gritted his teeth at the embarrassing memory of their DADA teacher blurting out in the middle of class that she'd caught him "lurking about" in the girl's bathroom.

Hermione didn't seem to notice his displeasure as she continued rattling on, "Of course, once I followed you into the bathroom and saw the gaping hole in the floor, I knew the truth. I can't believe the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets was in a bathroom."

"What _I_ can't believe is that you skived off class and followed me down here!" Ron said exasperatedly, "Don't you realize how dangerous it is down here?"

"I know it's dangerous, Ron, but I want to help!" Hermione shot back emphatically, "You shouldn't have to do this on your own just because Dumbledore says so!"

Ron looked at her, his mouth gaping open for a few moments before smiling lopsidedly at her. Her willingness to disobey the school's headmaster was very familiar. _This_ was the Hermione he knew…this was _his_ Hermione. Unfortunately, that made him even more frustrated that she would needlessly put herself in danger.

"I'm glad you want to help me," Ron said, "But this is way too dangerous!"

"Well, I'm here now," she said, matter-of-factly, "And since I have no way of getting back up that pipe, you're rather stuck with me."

He was about to suggest flying her back up the pipe to the safety of Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, but she cut him off before he could get a word in edgewise.

"What was it I saw you take?" she asked, reaching over and tugging at his rucksack, "You were invisible…but I could see your hand floating in mid-air. You were taking things out of those niches in the wall. What is it? Is _that_ what Dumbledore sent you down here for?"

"Yes, it is," he replied begrudgingly, narrowing his eyes at her, "But I'm not going to tell you any more than that. Bloody Hell, Hermione, it's bad enough you came down here without you getting mixed up in _everything else_ that's going on."

Hermione narrowed her eyes right back at Ron and folded her arms across her chest. "I can _help_ you."

"I know you can help me," he agreed, though his voice was still full of frustration, "But I just --"

Ron stopped talking mid-rant as the sound of a soft hissing noise somewhere out in the darkness drew his attention. He could hear something out there moving quietly, and he was immediately overcome with the feeling of being watched.

"Did you hear that?" Ron asked in a hushed tone.

"You don't suppose it's the basilisk, do you?" Hermione replied, grabbing his arm tightly, her eyes wide with fear.

"I dunno," Ron said, shaking his head, "I reckon it could be…"

"Better safe than sorry," Hermione said, hurriedly putting her blindfold back on and casting the spell that allowed her to see with her eyes closed, "If you're done down here, we should go."

Ron nodded. He was about to follow suit and direct Hermione to mount his broom, when the sounds of footsteps began echoing towards them from back the way they had come.

"Shite!" Ron cursed in a harsh whisper.

"Who is it?" Hermione asked, her voice tinged with fear.

"I have no idea," Ron told her, reaching in to his rucksack and grabbing the invisibility cloak. He shoved it into her hands. "Put that on and keep absolutely quiet."

"But…"

"Do it!"

His harsh tone and steely glare made Hermione act without questioning him again. She quickly threw the cloak over herself and Ron watched as she disappeared from view, hoping that she'd done it in time for the new arrival not to have seen her.

The footsteps grew closer and Ron kept his wand at the ready. He watched as a robed figure emerged from the darkness, the eerie green light of the Chamber glinting off of round spectacles as the new arrival made himself known. There was a surprised gasp from the seemingly empty space beside Ron as Harry Potter came into view, and Ron had to hiss at Hermione to remind her to remain silent.

"Well, well, Weasley," Harry began with a malicious sneer, "The thorn in my side has decided to deliver himself directly into my grasp. Very sporting of you."

Harry moved past Ron and cast a glance at the empty wall niches before taking a seat in the stone throne and leaning back comfortably, as if he were settling into an armchair in the lounge of his own home.

Ron was at a loss for what to do. He wasn't prepared for a direct confrontation with Harry, and to make matters worse, he had to worry about Hermione's safety as well. Harry continued to talk as Ron tried to formulate a plan for getting himself and Hermione safely out of the Chamber of Secrets.

"You certainly have proven difficult to eliminate, Weasley," Harry continued, something very similar to a vicious smile twisting his features, "Managing to survive the basilisk through sheer blind luck three years ago was one thing, but surviving the Killing Curse this summer is quite another. That really is rather extraordinary. Especially since I was sure that I saw you die."

"That was you?" Ron exclaimed in shock, the sound of his voice covering up the surprised gasp coming from the empty air next to him. Ron felt his stomach sink. If Harry had been the one who had killed the other Ron, then there really was no telling what he was capable of doing while he was under the sway of Riddle's diary. The danger he and Hermione were in, now that they were facing Harry, had just multiplied exponentially.

"It was me," Harry admitted, his face split by an evil grin, "Would you like to tell me how it is that you're still around to cause me grief?"

There was no way Ron was going to answer that question. Even if he wanted to, spilling the beans to Harry, when he was still obviously under the control of Riddle's diary, would have to be one of the stupidest things he could do; especially with Hermione there. He could feel her moving anxiously beside him, and he was sure that she, too, wanted to know how he'd survived the Killing Curse.

Ron stood his ground and set his jaw defiantly, refusing to answer Harry's question. Silence hung heavy in the air for several moments until Harry waved a hand dismissively in Ron's direction.

"No matter, Weasley; keep your secrets. As they say, _the_ _third time's the charm_. You'll not be leaving the Chamber of Secrets alive." Harry stood and turned to face the statue of Salazar Slytherin, "Since the Killing Curse has proven unreliable…and since there are no reflective surfaces down here to prevent you from receiving the full effect of its gaze, I thought you might enjoy another encounter with the King of Serpents. After all, you came all this way…and what journey into the Chamber of Secrets would be complete without a visit from the basilisk?"

"We have to get out of here right now," Ron whispered to Hermione out of the corner of his mouth as Harry continued on, seeming to enjoy the sound of his own voice.

"How?" Hermione asked, sounding frantic beneath the invisibility cloak.

"My broom," Ron explained, pushing the Cleansweep in her direction, "Get on, but try to stay under the cloak; he doesn't know you're here, and I'd like to keep it that way."

"I can't do that, Ron…I hate flying!"

Harry had begun speaking directly to the statue, drowning out the whispered conversation between Ron and Hermione…only the sounds coming from his mouth weren't words; they were guttural hisses Ron recognized immediately as Parseltongue.

"We're running out of time, Hermione, just do it!" Ron urged, doing his best to keep his voice down to a whisper.

"What is that?" Hermione asked, "Why is he hissing at the statue?"

"It's Parseltongue…he's summoning the basilisk."

The sound of stone scraping against stone filled the Chamber, and Ron looked up in time to see the mouth of the Slytherin statue open up and a monstrous snake slither forth and drop from the opening, landing so heavily that the floor itself shook with the impact. The thing was at least fifty feet long and bright green with a blunt head and a body as thick as a tree trunk

"Ron, your blindfold!" Hermione gasped as the basilisk began to uncoil itself.

"I'll take care of it," Ron nodded, putting his blindfold back on and casting the _Sight of the Unseeing_ spell, "Now get on the broom."

"But…"

"No time to argue!" Ron snapped, "Get on the bloody broom!"

"Fine!"

The broom was snatched from Ron's grasp and he watched as it seemed to float a couple of feet off the floor, dipping slightly when Hermione invisibly straddled it. He was about to climb on the broom and fly them out of the Chamber when Harry's attention was focused back on him.

"Oh no, Weasley you'll not be escaping this time. The King of Serpents is anxious to renew your acquaintance, and you don't want to be rude and leave without saying hello," Harry said mockingly as Ron made for the broom, "Nagini…restrain our guest."

At first, Ron had no idea who Harry was talking to, but he was suddenly made completely aware, as the largest snake he had ever seen – this side of the basilisk – lunged at him from the shadows. The snake was some twelve feet long with a pointed head and a diamond pattern running down its back. Its mouth was agape as it sprang at him, its razor-sharp fangs glinting in the dim light of the Chamber.

Ron jumped back, startled by the sudden appearance of the snake. He stumbled over some loose stones and fell, landing hard on his rear-end, less than a yard separating him from the snake.

"No!" the disembodied voice of Hermione screamed from the direction of the broom, "_Protego!_"

The lunging snake smacked up against the invisible barrier of the Shield charm that Hermione had cast around Ron. The redhead breathed a momentary sigh of relief and shot a grateful look in Hermione's direction.

"So you're not alone, eh Weasley?" Harry hissed, "Does your invisible little friend know that you led her down here to die? Nagini…find the girl."

Hermione had protected him with the Shield charm, but now she was in danger. Ron didn't know if the snake would be able to find her under the invisibility cloak, but he didn't want to take the chance and find out. The snake was already moving towards the broom, so he needed to act fast.

_BOOM!_

_Magnum's Stunner_ was the first spell that came to mind for Ron, and the sound of it going off echoed throughout the Chamber of Secrets like a cannon shot. Ron was thrown back by the force of the spell, hitting the backside of the Shield that had surrounded him like a bubble. The Shield absorbed the impact of the spell's recoil, and Ron dropped to the ground unharmed.

At the same time, the blast of red light exploding from his wand-tip shattered the front of the Shield, canceling out the spell. The snake was slithering rapidly towards Hermione as the spell hit it and launched it into the air, sending it sailing across the Chamber to slam into one of the massive pillars supporting the ceiling.

"You will pay for that, Weasley!" Harry bellowed furiously, "Get him…_kill_ him! Kill them both!"

Ron jumped to his feet and ran towards the broom. The snake that Harry had called _Nagini_ was lying limply on the floor, clearly dazed from its unexpected flight across the Chamber. Ron knew that Harry's last command was aimed at the basilisk which, up to this point, had been coiled up, awaiting its master's order. It was definitely time to leave.

"I hope you're still on the broom, Hermione," Ron said as he jumped onto his Cleansweep and kicked off. He could feel Hermione in front of him, so he knew that she was, in fact, still on the broom. He could feel her shaking as the broom rose quickly into the air, and he couldn't be sure if it was from a fear of flying, a fear of the basilisk, or a combination of the two.

"Please don't let me fall," Hermione squeaked from in front of him.

"Wouldn't think of it," Ron said, closing his arms more tightly around her. Protecting her from falling was not going to be a problem…protecting her from the fifty-foot snake or the insane teenage wizard waiting below was a bit more difficult.

Ron turned the broom and zipped off in the direction of the door. He could feel Hermione moving in front of him, and her squirming was making it a bit difficult to fly straight.

"Sit still, Hermione, before I crash us into one of those columns!"

"Ron, stop the broom!" Hermione called from the empty air in front of him, "Stop right now!"

"Stop? Are you mental?" Ron snapped harshly, "We need to keep moving!"

"We forgot about the rooster!" Hermione explained.

"There's no time for that," he said, "The jumper I was going to Transfigure is in the bottom of my rucksack and I'd rather get us out of here than waste time rummaging through my bloody bag!"

"Just stop, Ron, I have an idea," she replied plaintively, "Please?"

Against his better judgment, Ron pulled the broom to a halt, hovering far above the basilisk which had been keeping pace with them. The gigantic serpent couldn't reach them in the air, but they'd have to drop down near the ground to get through the door leading out of the Chamber, and that's when they ran the risk of being caught by the monster and its poisonous fangs.

Harry must have decided to stop sitting idly by and waiting for his serpentine friends to do the job, because Ron had to juke quickly to the left to avoid a curse that was headed their way. Another curse followed close behind and Ron managed to avoid it as well, but he didn't know how much longer he'd be able to do so.

"Whatever you're gonna do, do it now!" Ron yelled, keeping his eyes trained on Harry's wand, waiting for another curse he'd need to dodge.

"Patience is a virtue," Hermione's voice called out to him.

"Not right now, it isn't!"

He could feel Hermione twisting about again, the silky material of the invisibility cloak brushing against him as she did. He was about to ask her what she was up to, but another curse from Harry put his attention back on keeping them alive instead of whatever Hermione was doing.

Ron could hear Hermione reciting the incantation for the Transfiguration spell she had taught him. He watched in disbelief as the stone seat…the throne Harry had been so comfortably perched in earlier…began changing. The dark, coarse rock began to look softer…fluffier…and the whole thing started to take on a decidedly less chair-like shape.

"What is this? What are you doing?" Harry snapped as he, too, noticed the throne undergoing its sudden transformation.

Moments later, where once had been a rough-hewn stone seat, seemingly grown from the very floor of the Chamber itself, there now stood a dark-feathered rooster of a similar size.

"Nice one, Hermione," Ron said.

"Thank you," Hermione replied, and he could feel her shifting again, no doubt putting both hands on the broomstick once again in preparation for more aerial maneuvering, "Now let's get out of here!"

"What? No!" Harry yelled, apparently understanding what was about to transpire. He turned his wand on the large chicken now standing in front of him.

Before Harry could cast a spell to get rid of it, however, the recently transfigured rooster took notice of the basilisk just as the great snake took notice of _it_. The King of Serpents turned its huge body quickly and attempted to flee from its newfound foe in the opposite direction. It wasn't quick enough, however, as the cockerel puffed itself up and began crowing at the top of its lungs.

The sound of the crowing echoed through the Chamber, bouncing and reverberating off the walls. The noise seemed to cause the basilisk an immense amount of pain, as the monstrous serpent began writhing and throwing itself about, slamming into the stone pillars which held up the Chamber's ceiling.

"NOOOO!" Harry bellowed, watching the death throes of the mighty snake. He threw a curse at the rooster, causing the bird to explode in a blast of blood, feathers, and steaming chicken bits, but it was too little, too late. With a resounding _thud_, the basilisk crashed to the floor and ceased to move; its great sinewy form reduced to nothing more than a lifeless corpse. "Damn you, Weasley!"

"Time to go," Ron said, pulling on the broom handle and turning them towards the far end of the Chamber once more. The Cleansweep took off like a shot towards the exit.

For a few moments, he honestly thought their escape was going to run smoothly. The basilisk was dead thanks to its rather anticlimactic encounter with a throne-sized rooster, and there was no way humanly possible for Harry to move fast enough to catch them while they were on a broom and he was on foot.

However, as the Chamber's exit came into view and Ron dropped them down towards the floor, his stomach dropped as he saw that the door was closed. Getting it to re-open would take time they really didn't have to spare.

"Ron, the door's closed!" Hermione exclaimed frantically, stating the obvious.

"I'll just have to tell it to open up, then," he replied, looking back over his shoulder to make sure Harry hadn't had a chance to fire another spell their way.

"Tell it to…what are you talking about?" she asked, starting to sound hysterical. He could feel her moving around in front of him and suspected she was trying to turn around to look at him, even though he couldn't see her.

Before Ron could explain, they were hovering a few feet off the ground in front of the sealed door. He could tell she was frightened and needed reassurance that they were going to make it, but he needed to focus on the task at hand.

"Ron, what…?"

"Shh!" Ron snapped, cutting Hermione off, "I need to concentrate."

Hermione went silent and Ron began to once again run through the series of sounds in his head that made up the Parseltongue word for "open". He began hissing at the closed door, but nothing happened.

"Dammit!" he cursed, running a hand nervously through his hair. He'd had time to get it wrong a few times when he'd tried this before; he wasn't being chased by an insane classmate and his huge pet snake then. He took a deep breath and tried again, but once more nothing happened.

"What are you doing?" Hermione asked heatedly. He could hear the fear in her voice and couldn't really blame her.

"What does it look like I'm doing?" Ron snapped, "I'm trying to open the effing door!"

"Well it looks like all you're doing is hissing at it!" she snapped back just as angrily, "This was your great plan? _Hissing_?"

"SHUT UP!" Ron yelled, frustration and fear getting the better of him, "I need to concentrate and you're not helping!"

The Cleansweep suddenly gave a mighty jerk, and Ron had to hold on tight to keep the broom from crashing into the wall. He glanced at the tail end of the broomstick and noticed that the bristles were smoking slightly. He could see Harry was rapidly approaching and knew he must have hit the broom with a spell. He was coming towards them so fast, he almost seemed to be flying…but Ron knew that couldn't be possible.

"You'll not escape that way, Weasley!" Harry yelled, firing off another spell, "You and your invisible friend will die down here in the Chamber of Secrets!"

Ron pulled up hard on the broom handle, sending the Cleansweep back into the air, avoiding Harry's latest spell by inches. The broomstick shuddered noticeably as it climbed towards the shadowed ceiling of the Chamber, and Ron could only hope that the broom would hold together long enough for them to get out of this alive.

"Hold on tight," Ron told Hermione as he sent the broom flying off down the length of the Chamber away from the sealed door and Harry, "This is gonna be a bumpy ride."

The only response Ron got was a muted whimper from the empty air in front of him, and he knew Hermione must be scared to death right now…he wasn't too far from it, himself. He had wanted to keep her safe and not get her mixed up in all this; now, however, she was about as mixed up in it as she could get, and he didn't know if either one of them would live to see another day.

As they passed over the dead body of the basilisk, the broom sputtering and shaking as they flew in the direction of the statue of Salazar Slytherin, Ron saw a possible escape route. He had no idea where the tunnel beneath the Slytherin statue led, but if there was the possibility of escaping through it, he figured it was worth a shot.

Hermione screamed as Ron dived towards the floor, leveling off in time to fly straight through the entrance to the tunnel. The tunnel was pitch black and the broom kept bumping into the rough stone walls; it was becoming harder and harder to control and didn't seem to want to fly in a straight line.

"_Lumos!_"

Hermione lit the tip of her wand and even though the source of the light was invisible, it still served to provide enough illumination for Ron to keep the bucking broom flying more-or-less down the center of the tunnel, though the damaged Cleansweep fought him the entire way.

The tunnel twisted and turned and had a definite upward slope. This gave Ron the hope that it was, in fact, a way out. Though if it did lead out of the Chamber of Secrets, he wondered why Harry hadn't done anything to seal it off as he had the door leading back towards the pipes.

The dark tunnel seemed to go on forever, but finally, Ron could see daylight ahead and he spurred the sputtering broomstick onward. There was a definite opening at the end of the tunnel, with trees visible beyond. He could almost smell the fresh air.

It wasn't until they were right on top of the opening that Ron noticed an odd sort of haze across the opening. They were too close and moving too fast for him to stop the broom before they passed through the opening. The air seemed to crackle around them as they flew out of the tunnel.

The instant they exited the tunnel, the silence of the forest was rent asunder by a bloodcurdling scream. It took a moment for Ron to realize that the scream was coming from him and that Hermione, too, was wailing in pain.

He felt like he was on fire, his flesh feeling as though it were blistering and cracking; his very blood seemed to be boiling in his veins. His vision blurred, and at long last, Ron lost control of the broom.

With a resounding _crack_, the Cleansweep Eleven crashed headlong into a massive oak tree, unseating Ron and Hermione immediately. Ron grunted in pain as he bounced off the gnarled trunk of the tree before slamming heavily into the hard ground.

He struggled to sit up despite the burning sensation threatening to overwhelm him, inside and out. A sharp pain pierced his side as he moved, making it hard to breathe, and he couldn't help thinking that he'd broken some ribs.

Even though his vision was blurred, he spotted Hermione a few feet away. She was lying crumpled on the ground and unmoving; though he could just make out the rise and fall of her chest. She was alive, at least. Half of her body was covered by the cloak and still invisible, and it gave the disturbing impression that she had been cut in half at the waist.

Ron's mind was swimming in pain, but one thought did manage to break through the sea of unending agony: they needed help.

He began crawling towards Hermione, his body protesting his every movement with a new blast of pain. He pitched forward, staggering as his hands became tangled up with several pieces of wood; looking down, his head feeling as though it would explode, Ron found his Cleansweep, broken and charred as if thrown into a roaring fire, burnt tail twigs littering the ground in every direction.

Ron couldn't be bothered with the fate of his once-prized broom at the moment; getting to Hermione and making sure she was alright and then getting them back to the castle was the important thing. As he drew closer, he could see Hermione's flesh bubbling and blistering. Looking down at his own hands, concentrating on taking a really good look at himself finally, Ron saw that his skin, too, was in the same condition.

A large blister on the back of his hand burst open painfully with an eruption of blood and pus and Ron felt sick. Before he could give over to the feeling and vomit, however, the sound of something moving through the dried leaves behind him drew his attention. Ron's brain was nearly ready to shut down from the body-wracking pain he was in, but he was cognizant enough to realize that he and Hermione were still in imminent danger.

The rustling leaves were drowned out by a thunderous sound nearby that shook the very ground. Ron struggled to find his wand as he turned to face the new danger head-on. If he was lucky, whatever it was would put him out of his misery.

A flash of tan scales and a brown diamond pattern told Ron that the snake from the Chamber…Harry's snake…had caught up with him – no doubt ready to mete out a measure of revenge. The snake was poised to strike and he knew there was no Shield charm to save him this time.

The snake lunged, fangs bared for the kill; before it could reach Ron, however, a jet of flame burst forth, enveloping the massive snake and incinerating it on the spot as it thrashed and writhed violently on the forest floor.

Ron looked sluggishly towards the source of the flame and found himself gazing through hazy, unfocused eyes at what appeared to be a very large dragon. As if being face-to-face with a dragon wasn't bad enough, now that the snake was little more than a charcoal briquette, the dragon seemed determined to turn its fiery attention towards _him_.

He was a goner. He knew he was a goner. He was weak and in pain, he could barely see, he could hardly think straight, and he couldn't find his wand. There was no way he was getting out of this one alive.

If he was surprised seeing a dragon roaming through the Forbidden Forest (in a land where the only dragons were supposed to be securely tucked away at a protected reserve in Wales), then seeing a sixteen-foot tall giant showing up and proceeding to wrestle the dragon left Ron in a complete state of shock and awe.

Giants and dragons wandering freely about Britain; it didn't make sense…it seemed insane…until the third unexpected surprise visitor reared his shaggy head.

"Grawp…Norbert…stop yer rough-housin' you lot! Ye'll ge' the centaurs in more of a strop'n they already are. What've yeh done, Norbert, wha'…Weasley?"

Hagrid. Giants and dragons and Hagrid; now it all made sense. That was Ron's last conscious thought before it all overwhelmed his pain-addled mind and the world went black.

* * *

**Author's End Notes****: **Well...there ya' go. Maybe not worth waiting three months for, but at least it's here. I hope you enjoyed it. Feel free to let me know. Chapter 24 is on it's way, though I can't confidently say it'll be two weeks...not after coming off a three month Writer's Block.


	24. Reflections of a Boy and Girl

**Author's Notes****:** I seem to be in the habit of posting late these days. Last chapter was three months late and now this chapter was two _weeks_ late. At least the interval of lateness has been reduced by more than eighty percent. With any luck, next chapter won't be late at all. (Especially since it's almost completely written already and just needs typing up.)

Anyone who's been keeping an eye on my FF profile knows two things have happened recently worth mentioning. The first being that I went into the hospital a couple of weeks ago to have some tests run. I was only there for the better part of two days, but I really have to say going into the hospital when I did killed the head of steam I had built up for writing this chapter. That's one of the reasons this thing took so long to finish. (The other reason is that this chapter's the size of three normal chapters.) The other thing that happened was my birthday.

I had this whole scenario planned out, where I would post this chapter ON my birthday and say, "Even though it's MY birthday, YOU get the gift," whereby the new update would be the gift in question. Of course, I missed that particular deadline by two days. Ah well.

So, even though it's a bit late, and even though you didn't get it served up for you as a birthday present, here it is: Chapter 24. Enjoy!

**Thanks****:** As usual, thanks to everyone who has ever and will ever post a review for this story. As of this writing, the number of reviews stands at 626! That's just awesome! Think we can hit 650 before the next chapter comes out? Thanks, also, to my wonderful beta CutewithAcapital-Q. She is the wind beneath my wings. (Hey Cutie…did you ever know that you're my hero?)

Now that I'm done quoting Bette Midler (would I have sounded gay if I had called her "the Divine Miss M"? Who'm I kidding…I quoted Bette Midler…that ALREADY sounds gay!), let me get on with one final piece of business, the Disclaimer, and then you people can get to reading.

**Disclaimer****: **I've said it before and I'll say it again. The HP universe is JKR's sand box…she just lets me play in it with my Tonka trucks and G.I. Joes.

* * *

_**MIRROR, MIRROR**_

**Chapter 24 – "Reflections of a Boy and Girl"**

"Ugh…not again…" Ron groaned when he came to and found himself in a bed with starched white sheets, looking up at the cracked white ceiling of the Hogwarts hospital wing, instead of lying face down in the coarse green underbrush of the Forbidden Forest.

"I'm afraid so, Mr. Weasley," Madam Pomfrey said as she bustled into view carrying a tray of potions, "Though I'd say, considering you were flying your broom through the Dark Forest _blindfolded_, you're rather lucky you're _here_ instead of the morgue at St. Mungo's."

"What happened?" he asked groggily, struggling to sit up and look around. The white privacy curtain was drawn around his bed, preventing him from seeing the rest of the infirmary.

"Oh, now, surely _you_ would know better than _I_ what happened out there in the forest," the nurse said as she waved her wand over him briefly, "Although, how you convinced a sensible girl like Miss Granger to take part in such a reckless and dangerous activity is beyond me."

"Hermione! Is she okay?" he asked, looking around frantically to spot some sign of the bushy-haired brunette. Of course, with the curtains drawn, he couldn't see anything. "Where is she?"

"Miss Granger is in the next bed," the nurse replied, giving him a dose of a bitter-tasting purple potion, "And she will be fine. You were both suffering from fairly the same injuries, most of which I was able to treat rather quickly and easily. It was only the spell burns that gave me a bit of trouble."

"Burns…"

For the first time since coming to, Ron stopped to take stock of himself, noticing with a bit of embarrassment that his chest was bare. His skin was pink and healthy looking, as though it had been freshly scrubbed, and there was no sign of the charred cracks and blisters he remembered seeing after their harrowing escape from the Chamber of Secrets.

Madam Pomfrey nodded, handing him a glass of water to wash away the aftertaste of the potion. "Very nasty spell burns over ninety percent of your bodies. Since they were caused by Dark Magic, they were extremely difficult to heal."

"Dark Magic…"

Ron's mind flashed to the inexorable pain he felt the moment he crossed the threshold from the tunnel leading out of the Chamber into the open air of the Forbidden Forest. He briefly recalled a fine haze over the mouth of the tunnel, difficult to see until up close…like a thin, iridescent spider-web.

"Fortunately, Professor Snape knew of a potion that could be used to heal the burns without scarring," the nurse continued, placing the empty potion bottle and the empty glass back on the tray she was carrying, "I've had to apply it to your burns once a day for the last week, but I don't think I'll be needing to apply it anymore."

"I've been here for a week?" Ron exclaimed.

Madam Pomfrey nodded once more. "Ever since Hagrid brought you and Miss Granger in; the both of you were unconscious the whole time. Miss Granger only woke up a short while ago, herself. Now, if you're done interrogating me, I'll just pop off and let the headmaster know you've awakened and then I'll have some clothes brought down for you to put on."

"Clothes…?"

Ron realized that he could feel crisp linen against his legs and bare bum; it wasn't an unpleasant feeling, but it wasn't one he was expecting. He lifted the sheet that was covering his lower body and took a look underneath. Just as he thought, he wasn't wearing a stitch of clothing. He dropped the sheet with an embarrassed squeak and his whole body flushed red.

"I'm starkers!" Ron yelled, grabbing the sheet and tugging it up to his neck.

"There's no need to yell, Mr. Weasley," Madam Pomfrey scolded, frowning at him, "As I said, you had burns over most of your body and they needed tending to. I've been a nurse for a long time, and I assure you…there's nothing you have that I haven't seen before."

"It wasn't _mine_ before," he grumbled under his breath.

The nurse pretended not to hear him, but an amused smile tugged at her lips. She was just about to step through the curtains when Ron stopped her.

"Hermione's really okay?"

She smiled warmly at his concern for his friend. "Yes, Mr. Weasley…Miss Granger is fine. Once you both are dressed, I'll pull the curtains back and you can see for yourself."

The nurse disappeared through the curtains, and the full implication of what she had said finally dawned on Ron: Hermione was in the next bed…naked. Suddenly, the gravity of the situation…Dumbledore's mission, the encounter in the Chamber of Secrets, Harry's revelations, the mad scramble to escape, the burns, the injuries, the week of unconsciousness…no longer mattered. He was a teenage boy and there was a naked girl – one he was particularly fond of – lying in a bed no more than five feet away. All thoughts drained from his mind except that one.

"Bloody Hell…!"

* * *

It was nearly an hour before Madam Pomfrey returned with something for him to wear. He hadn't been expecting pajamas, a dressing gown, and slippers, but the nurse explained that, even though the external damage from the Dark Magic appeared to be completely healed, he and Hermione needed to remain under observation in case there were any unforeseen complications with internal spell damage.

In short, it would be a day or two before they would be allowed to leave.

Once they were dressed in the clothes Madam Pomfrey provided for them, the curtains were pulled back from around their beds and Ron got his first look at Hermione. Like his, her skin was a shiny shade of pink, giving her a healthy glow. Her eyes, however, were red-rimmed and she didn't look as pleased to see him as he was to see her.

"Alright there, Hermione?" Ron asked, concerned for well-being.

When she didn't answer and she didn't even acknowledge his presence, Ron got out of his bed and padded the short distance across the floor to Hermione's bedside. It was then that he could see that she was crying and trembling.

"Hermione…what's wrong?" he asked, reaching to place a comforting hand on her shoulder. She recoiled from his touch and looked at him with fear in her eyes.

"Just go away," Hermione said in a broken sort of voice, "Please just leave me alone."

"Mr. Weasley, get back in bed!" Madam Pomfrey ordered as she came out of her office carrying a beaker full of a steaming dark green potion. She shooed Ron away from Hermione's bed before handing the girl the potion, "Here you are, Miss Granger…freshly brewed, as always."

Hermione took the potion from the nurse, her hands shaking so badly that she nearly spilled it. She brought the glass beaker unsteadily to her lips and emptied it in one gulp. Madam Pomfrey took the empty glass from her and Hermione lay down with her back towards Ron and pulled the covers up to her neck.

"What _was_ that?" Ron asked, eyeing the empty flask in the nurse's hand, "What's wrong with her?"

"Never you mind, Mr. Weasley," Madam Pomfrey said in a scolding tone, "You just get yourself back in bed and leave Miss Granger to rest."

The nurse drew the curtain separating Ron and Hermione's beds, blocking her from his view once again. The matron gave Ron a scathing look and he reluctantly climbed back into his own bed, folding his arms across his chest and pulling a disgruntled face.

"You said we had the same injuries," he said plaintively, concerned that something was seriously wrong…and worse, that it had been _his_ fault, "You didn't give _me_ that potion. And I wasn't…doing…what she was doing!"

"You shouldn't concern yourself with Miss Granger's health," Madam Pomfrey said moving back across the ward towards her office.

"She's my friend!" he said pleadingly, "I'm worried about her."

The old nurse's face softened and she smiled slightly. "She'll be fine; she just needs some rest…and so do you."

"I was asleep for seven days," Ron argued.

"Then, perhaps you'd like me to send for your school books so you can catch up on all the work you've missed out on all week," the nurse countered with just the hint of a cheeky grin, "Miss Granger asked me to send for hers when she first woke up, so it won't be any trouble to ask for yours as well."

"I'd rather sleep," Ron groaned, lying down.

"Suit yourself," Madam Pomfrey said as she entered her office with what Ron was sure was a smugly satisfied look on her face.

He turned on his side and faced the curtain separating him from Hermione. Madam Pomfrey said she would be fine with some rest, but he wished that he could be sure. He'd feel better if he could see her; if only the damn curtain wasn't in the way…if only Hermione would talk to him.

Sleeping was the last thing he expected to be able to do after being unconscious for seven days; but whether it was from boredom, or from something in the potion that the nurse had given him when he first woke up, or from the hypnotic nature of the stark white curtain he was staring at unblinkingly, sleeping is exactly what Ron wound up doing.

* * *

Ron awoke to the unnerving feeling of being watched. Unlike the last time he'd had that feeling, however, he wasn't about to be attacked by a twelve-foot-long snake sicced on him by a possessed classmate.

This time around he was being quietly observed by a pair of big brown eyes.

"Er-my-knee?" Ron's voice was a bit sluggish and gravelly from sleep, but the brunette in the next bed didn't seem to mind. She smiled brightly at him when he sat up, stretching and yawning.

"Good morning, sleepy-head," Hermione replied, looking much better than the last time he'd seen her.

"S'not mornin' yet, izzit?" he asked, looking around for some indication of the time, "How long was I out?"

"I have no idea," she admitted, "You were asleep when I woke up about an hour ago. That potion usually makes me sleep for about four hours, so…"

"What _was_ that potion?" Ron asked, his head suddenly clearing as a very serious expression crossed his face.

Hermione blushed and looked down at her lap and began nervously fidgeting with her sheet. "Oh. That."

"Yeah, _that_," Ron replied, nodding. He pulled his sheet back and swung his long gangly legs over the side of the bed so that he was sitting facing her, "What _was_ that?"

"Do you remember Third Year?" she asked softly, not looking up.

"How could I forget?" he responded, rolling his eyes. Escaped convicts, Dementors, werewolves, hippogriffs, Animagi, a broken leg, and, of course, a cat and a rat. Not exactly a forgettable year in Ron's book.

"Do you remember the _end_ of Third Year?" she asked, looking up slightly, "I _know_ Neville told you what happened…"

The other Ron's memories suddenly flashed through his head, stopping on the image of a familiar young brunette girl lying curled up in the middle of a hospital bed looking broken.

"Yeah, I remember," he said, nodding sympathetically.

Hermione looked back down. "When I got home that summer, my parents took me to see a friend of theirs…a Muggle healer who specializes in young people with…emotional problems."

Her voice broke and tears were rolling down her cheeks; this was obviously a topic that was painful and difficult for her to talk about. Ron hated seeing her in such a state, but he wasn't sure what he should do to help her. Give her a hug? Pretend it wasn't happening? Tell her to stop talking about it?

"'Mione, you don't have to tell me" he said, reaching across the space between the two beds and gently patting her hand, "Just forget about it, okay?"

"No, Ron," she said, sniffing. She defiantly wiped her tears away and looked up, holding her head high, "You said it yourself…we're best friends. You have a right to know…I _want_ you to know."

Ron nodded and she went on.

"The healer…Muggles call them doctors…or, in Dr. Winston's case, psychiatrists…well, he put me on some medication that was supposed to help me deal with stress after the…the breakdown. I didn't want to take it…I told my parents that I had dropped some of my elective classes so it wouldn't be a problem anymore…but they were worried about me, so I gave in and agreed to take the pills."

"Pills?"

"Oh…uhm…how best to explain pills?" Hermione looked lost in thought for a moment, "Imagine a Bertie Bott's bean, but instead of being made of candy, it's made of a dose of potion…and instead of chewing it up, you swallow it with a glass of water."

"Sounds dreadful," Ron said, wrinkling his nose and sticking out his tongue, "I had a vomit-flavored bean in my last box, but it still sounds better than your potion beans."

"Pills," she corrected.

"Whatever."

"So, as I was saying," she continued, rolling her eyes, but smiling at him as she did, "I took the pills last year even though I really didn't want to. The pills helped me manage my stress, but they made me _very moody_. I was very short with people the whole year…especially you. You may have noticed."

"Err…"

"It's okay, Ron. You won't hurt my feelings by saying you noticed."

"What does this have to do with the potion I saw Madam Pomfrey give you?" Ron asked, "That was no pill."

"Last year, I told Madam Pomfrey about the side-effects of the pills and asked her if there was a magical alternative that wouldn't make me so moody," Hermione explained and Ron listened with rapt attention, "She told me about a stress-relief potion with no side-effects, and the best part was I could take it once a month instead of daily, like I was doing with the pills. Before she would give me the potion, though, I had to ask my parents' permission first."

"They obviously said 'yes'," Ron replied.

"It wasn't easy getting them to agree," she said shaking her head, "You see, my parents are doctors, as well…"

"Dentists," he said, nodding, "Teeth healers."

"That's right!" Hermione said, surprised, "How did you know that?"

"You told me when we met on the Hogwarts Express," he admitted.

"I did? And you remembered something I said way back then?" she looked at Ron in complete awe.

"What can I say, Hermione?" he said, shrugging, "You made quite an impression."

Hermione blushed deeply but looked very pleased, smiling shyly at Ron. "As I was saying…since my parents are dentists, it was very difficult to convince them to forego Muggle medicine in favor of a magical remedy; they think it's cheating."

"But you're a witch!" Ron exclaimed, exasperated, "Using magic isn't _cheating_…it's what we _do_."

"But it's not what _they_ do," she said, "My parents don't use magic, and since I'm still a minor, I have to go along with their wishes. Luckily, though, I managed to convince them to let me try the potion…though it took a lot of pleading on my part."

"So, that was your monthly dose of potion I saw Madam Pomfrey give you?"

"Yes," she said, nodding, "Though, she gave it to me a few days early actually…because of what happened…in the Chamber…and on the broom. I had an _episode_ when I came to earlier. You saw…"

"Yeah," he nodded, "You had me worried."

"I'm sorry," she said, blushing and looking away.

"You're alright now, though, yeah?" he asked, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze.

Hermione looked down at their hands and then looked up at Ron before nodding. "I'm fine…now."

They sat quietly like that for several minutes, before Ron started to feel awkward and pulled away, going back to his own bed and engaging Hermione in lighthearted conversation, trying to take his mind off of how good it had felt to hold her hand.

* * *

If Ron had expected the day to continue the way it began – with just himself and Hermione whiling away the time in quiet conversation – he was mistaken. Madam Pomfrey soon arrived with food for the two of them, as well as their school books and homework from the previous week. Hermione was eager to dive right in, anxious to catch up on what she had missed. Having nothing else to do and no one to talk to…and with more than just a subtle urging from Hermione…Ron reluctantly began doing schoolwork as well.

A few hours later, when the double doors opened, signaling a new arrival to the hospital wing, Ron breathed a sigh of relief, hoping for some respite from his torturous homework. However, when he saw Fred and George walk through those doors wearing matching mischievous grins on their identical faces, he knew he was in for a new kind of torture.

"Do my eyes deceive me, George?" Fred asked in a mock-surprised voice, "Or is that Gryffindor's very own broom-riding Romeo and his bookish little Juliet lying before me in matching hospital beds?"

"You don't seem to be wearing a _blindfold_, Fred," George said, his tone falsely contemplative as he pretended to look his twin over from head-to-foot, "Therefore you _must_ be seeing straight. It _must_ be ickle Ronniekins and his little girlfriend Granger."

Ron rolled his eyes and shook his head at the twins while Hermione huffed from the next bed, trying to ignore their antics and continue with her schoolwork. The identical Weasleys quickly pulled up chairs on either side of Ron's bed.

"Alright there, Ron?" Fred asked with a huge grin as he settled into the chair between Ron and Hermione's beds.

"I will be when you two stop taking the mickey out of me," Ron grumbled, closing his Charms textbook and tossing it aside. In truth, he was glad for the distraction…even if he wasn't thrilled with the direction the twins' teasing was headed.

"When our two favorite prefects decide to skive off class and go for a romantic fly through the Forbidden Forest, you have to expect some measure of piss-taking," Fred said grinning broadly, "Though I'm not sure what the blindfolds were for."

"Perhaps there was more going on out there than just a _broom_-ride, dear brother," George quipped teasingly, "Care to elaborate, Ronniekins?"

"Shove off, you two," Ron grumbled, "It's not what you think."

"Then why don't you tell us what it _was_," Fred said, smiling deviously.

"Oh, honestly!" Hermione exclaimed in exasperation, snapping her book shut and turning her attention on the twins, "Don't the two of you have anything better to do than to go around looking for gossip?"

"Not when your little joyride is the talk of the school, we don't," Fred said, turning his wicked smile in Hermione's direction, "So tell us, Granger…what _were_ you and little Ronniekins doing out there anyway?"

"And just whose idea was it to wear blindfolds?" George added, waggling his eyebrows suggestively.

"Y'know, George, I've heard of Muggle party games using blindfolds," Fred said, obviously enjoying the way that they were getting under Hermione's skin, "Pin the Tail on the Bottle, Spin the Donkey…from what I hear, they're _snogging_ games!"

"Oh, please!" Hermione laughed, "Pin the Tail on the _Donkey_ is a child's game, and Spin the _Bottle_ doesn't even _use_ a blindfold!"

"Seems prim and proper Miss Granger here is an expert on the subject, Fred," George said, grinning.

"So it would seem, George," Fred replied, nodding, "It's _always_ the quiet ones. And here I thought when Ron told us to leave Granger alone, it was because he thought she'd take it out on him…turns out he's sweet on her!"

"It's not what you think," Ron said, blushing. Even as he said it, though, he knew the twins wouldn't believe him; they'd keep making fun until they found out the truth.

"So you _didn't_ convince Perfect Prefect Granger to skive off class in order to go for a cozy little broom-ride with you to a nice secluded spot in the forest?" Fred asked suggestively.

"The whole thing is a lot less…_salacious_…than you're making it sound, I assure you!" Hermione said in a huff.

"So you weren't out there snogging ickle Ronniekins while riding his broom wearing a blindfold?" George asked sounding disappointed.

"No, of course not!" Hermione said sternly.

"Pity," Fred said, drowning, "And here I was hoping our little Ronniekins had finally gotten himself some snogging experience."

"Shut it!" Ron snapped, glaring at Fred. Teasing him was one thing, but the twins were officially crossing the line now, "We were out there because of _my mission_," Ron hissed.

The twins' eyes widened and they exchanged a glance before looking back at Ron. Hermione's eyes widened, too, and Ron sighed inwardly, wondering what new form of agony he had just unleashed upon himself.

"You mean _she_ knows about your mission?" Fred asked, leaning in close to whisper to Ron.

"_They_ know about your mission?" Hermione asked, whispering, too, but with a bit of venom in her voice, "It was alright for you to trust Tweedledee and Tweedledum, but Dumbledore didn't want you trusting _me_?"

"So wait…Granger knows where you're really _from_?" George asked, looking back-and-forth between Ron and Hermione.

"_Where he's from_?" Hermione said, giving George a quizzical look, "He's from Ottery St. Catchpole. Why would that be a secret?"

"It's not a secret, Hermione…you're right," Ron said as he gave the twins a significant look, hoping they understood that while Hermione knew some things about the mission that Dumbledore had set before him, she wasn't privy to every aspect of it, "The twins were just making a joke."

"Well, I don't get it," she said, screwing up her face in confusion, "And I still don't understand why Dumbledore let you tell your brothers when this was all supposed to be some big secret."

"All the Weasleys know," Ron explained, "It's not something that could very easily be kept from the family."

"Oh. No, I suppose not," Hermione said, looking lost in thought, "I suppose Dumbledore would have had to have gotten your parents' permission before allowing you to…oh! Now I understand why Ginny kept crying around you all the time when you first came back to school! She must have been worried about you getting hurt."

"Yeah, that must've been it," Ron agreed, and a quick look at the twins prodded them to nod along in agreement as well, "Now that _that's_ all cleared up, maybe you two prats can stop taking the piss out of me."

Fred and George looked at each other and shared a mischievous smile before answering Ron in unison. "Where's the fun in _that_?"

Ron sighed, knowing that he would have to put up with the twins' teasing until the left. As annoying as it was, part of him relished the familiar feeling of being the butt of the twins' jokes.

"We have not yet begun to make your life miserable," Fred said, getting up out of his chair and sitting next to Ron on his bed, draping an arm around his shoulders.

"After all," George continued, mirroring his twin brother's movements, taking a seat on the other side of Ron on his bed and placing an arm across his shoulders, "We would be remiss in our duties as piss-taking older brothers if we let you off the hook for destroying your broom when Quidditch season is only a month old."

The color drained from Ron's cheeks. With everything that had happened, he'd completely forgotten that the last time he'd seen his precious Cleansweep Eleven, it was in pieces on the floor of the Forbidden Forest.

"Oh, bloody Hell…my broom! What am I going to do?"

"Look on the bright side," Fred said, grinning as though he reveled in Ron's misery, "Christmas is coming up…"

George's face took on the same grin as Fred's and he reached up and ruffled Ron's hair. "Maybe you can ask Father Christmas for a new one!"

Ron grimaced, knowing he was in for quite a long visit with the twins.

* * *

Once Fred and George had had their fill of making Ron's life miserable, they took off, leaving Ron and Hermione to once again take up their books and get back to the schoolwork that had piled up for them while they were unconscious.

Ron did everything in his power to delay doing his homework right away, even convincing Madam Pomfrey to send for his wizard's chess set. It arrived sometime after lunch, and as soon as Ron had the familiar chipped, faded chess set in his hands, he began begging Hermione to put the homework aside just for a bit so they could have a game. She reluctantly agreed, and Ron began schooling her on the finer points of chess.

Even though Hermione never even came close to beating Ron, they still had a good time playing, and before either one realized how much time had passed, Madam Pomfrey brought their dinner in along with two new visitors: Neville and Ginny.

Neville kept smirking at Ron and Hermione the entire time, and the fact that Ron and Hermione refused to talk about what they were doing out in the Forbidden Forest – since Neville had absolutely no knowledge of Ron's mission – just seemed to make him smirk even more.

Ron knew that Neville was dying to talk about the rumors floating around about the supposedly romantic broom-ride he'd taken with Hermione, and he was thankful that Neville had the good sense to keep his comments and questions to himself.

The sound of high-heeled shoes _click-clacking_ rapidly on the stone floor outside the hospital wing drew Ron's attention away from the conversation with his friends and sister. The sound was steadily coming closer, and he looked towards the double doors, waiting for what he knew was about to happen.

"Hem, hem!"

Pushing her way through the doors into the hospital wing, Dolores Umbridge appeared, dressed in her trademark pink cardigan, with a maliciously gleeful look in her eye and a saccharine sweet smile on her toad-like face.

"I have official business to tend to with Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger," she announced in her little-girl voice, "All other students must leave immediately."

Neville and Ginny looked at each other before looking at Ron and Hermione. Neville shrugged, shoving his hands in his pockets and making his way towards the door. Ginny gave a quick hug to Ron before waving goodbye and hurrying after her boyfriend.

"We'll see you two later," Ginny said as she locked arms with Neville and the two of them left the infirmary.

"I'll bring you're homework by tomorrow," Neville said, with a wry grin towards Ron, "I know you can't wait to get your hands on it."

"Don't do me any favors," Ron grumbled.

As soon as Ginny and Neville were out of sight, Umbridge giggled in that disturbing way she had and stepped up to the beds. There was a lightness to her step and she appeared much too happy; Ron knew that probably meant bad news for him.

"Mr. Longbottom won't need to bother bringing your homework to you," Umbridge said, sounding much too giddy, "Since you'll be leaving Hogwarts immediately."

"Leaving?" Hermione echoed, sitting up straight and looking concerned.

"Why would we be leaving Hogwarts?" Ron asked, giving Umbridge a dubious look. He knew there was something she was holding back, and he was just waiting for the other shoe to drop.

"Because you're being expelled of course," Umbridge said with a sick little contented giggle at the end of her statement.

"Expelled?" Ron and Hermione exclaimed simultaneously. Ron cast a look at Hermione and could see the terrified look on her face; he knew being expelled was one of her biggest fears.

"I can't be expelled…I just can't!" Hermione cried, starting to fidget nervously with the sheet on her bed.

"You can and you _will_!" Umbridge snapped, the earlier happiness in her tone giving way to stern annoyance, "You were caught out of bounds in a forbidden area when you should have been attending class, Miss Granger. As a _prefect_, you should understand how serious this offense is."

"You can't expel us," Ron said, glaring hatefully at the pink-clad bureaucrat, "You don't have the authority."

Umbridge turned her gaze on Ron, looking furious at him for having the gall to talk back to her. "Authority? As Senior Undersecretary to the Minister for Magic, Mr. Weasley, I have the authority to do a great many things!"

"However, expelling students is not one of them."

None of them had heard the doors to the hospital wing open, but never-the-less, there Dumbledore stood, hands on his hips and a look of grim determination on his face. It was that expression that had Ron feeling torn at the headmaster's arrival; on the one hand, he was fairly certain the old wizard would go to bat for him against Umbridge…but on the other hand, he wasn't quite sure that Dumbledore's disgruntled visage wasn't being aimed at him.

"The decision to expel students from Hogwarts, Dolores, has always been left up to the school's headmaster."

"This is a safety concern, Dumbledore, and as Ministry-appointed safety inspector, it falls under my purview!" Umbridge said angrily, puffing herself up as she stormed over towards the schoolmaster, "Weasley's flouting of the school's safety protocols has once again landed him in the hospital wing, only this time he's caused the injury of another student as well! He _deserves_ expulsion! They both do!"

"Believe me, Dolores, Mr. Weasley's recent actions will, indeed, result in a stiff punishment being leveled at him," Dumbledore said, and the stern look the old wizard gave Ron told him that he was correct in his earlier assumption that the headmaster's dour mood was his doing, "Miss Granger, too, will be punished for her part in recent events. These are school-related matters and as such do not concern the Ministry."

"I will be the judge of what does and does not concern the Ministry, Dumbledore," Umbridge said viciously, "You would do well to be mindful of the fact that your position of headmaster of this school is not as absolute as you might think."

"If the Minister wishes to discuss education reform or the appointing of a new headmaster for Hogwarts, he should take it up with the school governors," Dumbledore said completely humorlessly, "Until such time, however, decisions made within this school concerning the students, discipline, and educational practices fall to me."

"This is not over, Dumbledore!" Umbridge hissed, before stomping out of the hospital wing, her pink heels once again _click-clacking_ noisily down the hall.

Silence filled the hospital wing as the echoing of Umbridge's pink high heels on the flagstone floor faded into the distance. The silence was broken awkwardly by Ron addressing the headmaster.

"Thanks for standing up for us, Professor," Ron said nervously. He knew he wasn't out of the woods yet, but was still grateful that the headmaster wasn't going to allow them to be expelled.

"Mr. Weasley," Dumbledore sighed in exasperation, turning his stern gaze on the redhead, "As loath as I am to agree with Professor Umbridge, your recent activities would indeed be worthy of expulsion under normal circumstances…"

"But, Professor…!" Hermione exclaimed, her face a mask of panic.

The old wizard held up a hand to stop Hermione's frantic rant before it truly got started. "I said _'under normal circumstances'_, Miss Granger. I'm certain that the circumstances behind what occurred in the Forbidden Forest a week ago are anything _but_ ordinary."

"You can say that again," Ron said grimly.

Dumbledore cast an Imperturbable Charm on the hospital wing, sealing it off, and Ron began a detailed re-telling of what happened down in the Chamber of Secrets. The bulk of the tale was related by Ron, though Hermione did chime in from time-to-time. In the end, the story left Dumbledore stroking his bearded chin and looking pensive.

"I must say, Mr. Potter's behavior is cause for concern," Dumbledore said, frowning, "This is definitely an unforeseen complication."

"_Cause for concern_?" Hermione exclaimed, eyes wide, "_An unforeseen complication_? Professor, he tried to kill us! In fact, he admitted to using the Killing Curse on Ron over the summer! He wanted to know how Ron had survived, and I have to say that I'm really curious about that, myself."

Dumbledore glanced at Ron, and he could tell in no uncertain terms that the headmaster was not happy with him.

"Erm…maybe we can talk about that later, Hermione," Ron said nervously, "There's other stuff that's more important right now."

"More important than how you survived the Killing Curse?" Hermione exclaimed, "You can't be serious! The curse is supposed to be un-survivable, and yet you and Harry Potter _both_ survived it! We need to find out _why_!"

"Miss Granger…please, calm down," Dumbledore said, putting a hand up to try and quiet her, "We really must deal with one mystery at a time, and I'd rather deal with the items you retrieved from the Chamber of Secrets first."

Ron nodded. He knew there was no way either one of them could explain to Hermione just _how_ he'd managed to survive the Killing Curse. Telling her the truth…that it was a different Ron that Harry had cursed and that he didn't actually _survive_…would just complicate matters. At least, he was fairly sure that would be Dumbledore's stand; the old wizard was already extremely put-out that Hermione knew _anything_.

"I put the things in my rucksack," Ron explained, looking around for his bag. He spotted it on a shelf beneath his bedside table and quickly retrieved it. He opened it and found, among other things, his and Hermione's wands, the invisibility cloak, and the five items he had taken out of the wall niches in the Chamber. He handed Hermione her wand and then began pulling the strange items out of his bag, starting with Riddle's diary. "I have no idea what they are, but I figured since they were being kept with the diary, they might be important."

"Diary? What diary?" Hermione had gotten out of her bed and had moved closer to Ron's for a better look at the mysterious items she had yet to see close-up.

"Miss Granger," Dumbledore said with a deep frown on his face, "Perhaps you should let Mr. Weasley and I discuss this matter in private."

"But…I want to help," Hermione said plaintively, looking first at Dumbledore and then at Ron.

"Professor…she almost died helping me get these things out of the Chamber," Ron said, giving the old wizard a determined and rebellious look, "I think she's got a right to know."

"Mr. Weasley…" Dumbledore began in a warning voice.

"Either _we_ tell her now, or _I'll_ tell her later," Ron said, setting his jaw defiantly, "I trust Hermione…just like you trust Snape and Professor McGonagall."

Dumbledore and Ron locked eyes for a moment, and Ron could swear he'd seen anger flashing briefly in the headmaster's blue eyes. He knew the old wizard wasn't used to his students defying him, but this was not something that Ron was willing to give-in on.

"Very well, Mr. Weasley," Dumbledore sighed in surrender, "Proceed."

Ron nodded and began regaling Hermione with the tale of the mission that Dumbledore had laid before him. He hit all the major points: the diary, Harry's possession, You-Know-Who's presumed return, the two prophecies, and anything else he thought was relevant to the story. He did, of course, leave out one major point: that he was actually the Ron Weasley from a parallel universe that Dumbledore _"Borrowed"_ because the Ron Weasley native to this universe was dead. Other than that, though, Hermione got the whole story.

Dumbledore, for the most part, remained quiet the whole time, seemingly content to allow Ron the headache of explaining the situation to Hermione. Ron couldn't help thinking maybe there was just a bit of spite involved, since the old wizard didn't want to let Hermione know what was going on in the first place.

Once Ron had finished explaining everything to her, Hermione gave him a look like she thought he might well be insane. "Let me see if I have this straight. Even though you can't prove it, you think You-Know-Who has returned…you think Harry Potter is under the control of You-Know-Who's old diary…a prophecy says that only Harry Potter can defeat You-Know-Who…and another prophecy says that only _you_ can free Harry Potter from You-Know-Who's control…and to do that you have to destroy the diary."

"That about sums it up," Ron agreed, nodding.

"Do you know how crazy that sounds?" Hermione asked, eyes wide and voice rising in pitch, "You're trying to blame years of bad behavior…of attempted murder…on a book! I'm sorry, Ron, I just can't believe that. I mean, no harm ever came from reading a book!"

"You've gotta trust me on this one, Hermione," Ron said, thinking back to what happened to his sister in Second Year, "I know what I'm talking about."

He locked eyes with Hermione and he could tell that she was fighting an internal battle. Her desire to believe him was struggling with her belief that books…all books…were a good thing. Books, after all, meant knowledge…and how could knowledge be bad? Ron's stomach dropped when she suddenly looked away.

"I'm sorry, Ron," she said softly, "I don't mean to sound like I don't trust you…it's just that this is so hard to believe."

"I understand that, Hermione…but I'm telling you the truth."

Several moments of tense silence passed before Hermione nodded her head and responded. "I know, Ron. I believe you."

"Now that that has been settled," Dumbledore said humorlessly, "Perhaps we could turn our attention back to the items you retrieved from the Chamber."

"Oh…right…yeah," Ron said, nodding as he turned his attention away from Hermione and back to the headmaster. He handed the aged wizard the book he'd been holding in his hand, "Here's the diary…"

Dumbledore waved his wand over the diary before taking it from Ron's outstretched hand. He looked down at the warped, cracked, singed-looking book and frowned. He flipped through the blank, crumbling pages, a curious look on his face.

"Mr. Weasley…are you sure this is the right book," Dumbledore asked.

"Yeah, of course," Ron said, nodding, "Says so right on the first page, _'T.M. Riddle'_. Why?"

Dumbledore flipped back to the first page but was unable to make out anything but a blotting of ink on the old parchment. "And you didn't do anything to the book…didn't cast any spells or try to destroy it while you were in the Chamber of Secrets?"

"No, I didn't have time," Ron explained, wondering what Dumbledore was getting at, "What's going on, Professor?"

"When I examined the book with my wand, Mr. Weasley, while there _was_ a residue of Dark Magic present, there was nothing about the book that would enable it to possess someone as we believe Mr. Potter was possessed."

"I told you so," Hermione said, prompting Ron to turn and glare at her momentarily.

"Actually, Miss Granger, I did say there was a _residue_ of magical energy. All magic…especially Dark Magic…leaves its mark on objects that have been enchanted. Whatever Dark Magic was flowing through this diary at one time was very powerful and very dangerous…but whatever it was, it is gone now."

"So, the book…?" Ron began, looking at the old wizard for more.

"Is a harmless artifact of a bygone day at this point," Dumbledore finished, "And judging by the manner in which it is decaying, I suspect it will be little more than a pile of dust before much longer."

"So, Harry's not under the spell of the book?" Ron said hopelessly.

"I'm afraid not," Dumbledore replied, shaking his head.

"So, Harry Potter really _is_ an evil, homicidal maniac," Hermione added, once again causing Ron to flash her a dark, disgruntled look.

"Professor…there's gotta be something we can do," Ron said, trying to think of a back-up plan. They had put their eggs all in this one basket and hadn't really thought of any contingencies. Now, however, they had no choice, "I know Harry, and he is _not_ a killer. Can't you just cast a spell and _fix him_?"

"Mr. Weasley, if it were that easy to solve a problem such as this, there would be no need for prisons such as Azkaban," Dumbledore responded diplomatically, "If this could all be solved with the wave of a wand, I wouldn't have needed to come to you for help."

Ron nodded silently. He knew the old wizard was right, even if he didn't want to admit it. Magic was…well…_magical_, but it couldn't solve every single problem. Even wizards who'd spent their whole lives around magic and tended to take it for granted knew that.

"There's gotta be something we can do to help Harry," Ron said finally.

"Before Mr. Potter can be helped, he must first be found," Dumbledore replied cryptically.

"What d'you mean?" Ron asked, confused.

"Mr. Potter has not been seen since the day Hagrid found you in the Dark Forest," Dumbledore explained, "His current whereabouts are unknown."

"Could he be hiding out down in the Chamber?" Ron asked the headmaster.

"Doubtful, Mr. Weasley," Dumbledore said, shaking his head, "It has been a week…certainly he would have needed to come up out of the Chamber of Secrets, in search of food if nothing else. Shortly after you were recovered from the forest, I placed magical wards around the Chamber's entrance in the girls' lavatory…and those wards have not been broken."

"Maybe he's getting in and out through the same tunnel we used to escape the Chamber," Ron suggested, "He'd come out in the middle of the Forbidden Forest where nobody would be around to see him."

"That is a possibility, Mr. Weasley," Dumbledore agreed, "However, something tells me that Mr. Potter has fled Hogwarts."

"He probably ran off because he didn't want to go to prison for trying to kill us," Hermione suggested.

Ron turned and started to protest, but he couldn't…she might just be right. As well as Ron knew Harry Potter, if Harry's actions down in the Chamber of Secrets were done of his own free will, then he really didn't know Harry…_this _Harry…at all.

"Professor…do you have any idea what that spell was that burned us when we came out of that tunnel?" Ron asked, changing the subject to something he'd been curious about ever since he came to.

"As a matter of fact, Mr. Weasley, I do," Dumbledore said, "Professor Snape has informed me that _that particular spell_ is a favorite warding spell used by Voldemort's followers. Coming in contact with it is often fatal…resulting in a slow, painful death. You're both quite lucky that Professor Snape was here and knew what to do to counteract the burns and start the healing process. You owe him your lives."

"Just what I wanted to hear," Ron grumbled.

"Ronald!" Hermione exclaimed in a scolding tone.

He rolled his eyes, but then looked properly chastened. Of all the people to owe his life to…why did it have to be Snape? The only thing worse would be owing his life to one of the Malfoys.

"So…now what?" Ron asked, his shoulders slumping in defeat.

"Perhaps if you showed me the other items that you brought back from the Chamber," Dumbledore said, "We might be able to get some clue as to what our next course of action should be."

Ron nodded and started bringing out the remaining four items, laying them out on his bed around the remains of Riddle's diary: a tarnished ring with a crack running down the center of its stone, a melted gold cup with what had once been an engraving of a small animal of some kind, a busted locket hanging precariously from a snapped chain, and the broken remains of a delicate-looking tiara.

"Like I said, I don't know what these things are, but they were kept with the diary…so I thought they might be important."

Dumbledore waved his wand over the four new items on the bed and frowned. "You made a wise decision, Mr. Weasley. These four objects display the same residual mark of Dark Magic as the diary; they may well prove to be significant."

"But what do you suppose they are?" Ron asked. If Riddle's diary wasn't the key to helping Harry, then maybe one of these things was.

"I will need to study them at length before I will know for certain, Mr. Weasley," Dumbledore said, waving his wand again and levitating all five of the objects into the air next to him, "As soon as I know definitively what these objects are…and what they mean for your mission…I will let you know."

"Both of us?" Hermione asked hopefully.

Dumbledore sighed and nodded, "Yes, Miss Granger…_both of you_."

The headmaster's response made Hermione smile and nod, and Ron felt a bit of relief knowing that, even if he didn't approve, Dumbledore was going to allow her to help with the mission.

"There is one last thing, before I go," Dumbledore said, "And that is the matter of your punishments."

"What? But –" Ron and Hermione both tried to protest at the same time, but Dumbledore raised a hand to silence them both.

"Professor Umbridge is correct in that your actions, taken out of context, do deserve a stern punishment, and while I think expulsion or stripping you of your prefect status might be a bit harsh considering the true facts…I do believe that I will need to issue some sort of punishment to keep up appearances."

Ron and Hermione exchanged worried looks as the headmaster continued.

"Furthermore, with Mr. Potter's current whereabouts being unknown, I do not think it's safe for either one of you to be outside the school grounds. Rumors of your broom-ride in the forest have circulated throughout the castle; everyone knows you were together that day…including Mr. Potter, no doubt. He may seek revenge on one or both of you."

Ron grimaced. This was his fault. Hermione tried helping him, and now she was in danger. He looked over at her and saw her, jaw set firmly, waiting for Dumbledore to mete out punishment that neither one of them truly deserved.

"Until further notice, neither one of you are permitted to go to Hogsmeade. It would be much too easy for Mr. Potter to get to the two of you in the village."

Ron and Hermione looked at each other. Neither one wanted to admit it, but the headmaster did have a point.

"Losing your Hogsmeade privileges should be enough of a punishment that even Professor Umbridge would consider you thoroughly punished for your actions."

"I doubt it," Ron scoffed.

Perhaps not," Dumbledore agreed with a twinkle in his eye before finally making his exit, "But until Dolores Umbridge is headmistress of this school, she _will_ have to live with it."

* * *

The meeting with Dumbledore set the tone for the rest of the day. Ron and Hermione remained mostly quiet, catching up on their schoolwork and talking only when necessary. It was so boring and tense that Ron was glad whenever Madam Pomfrey came in to check on them, just for a break in the monotony.

After dinner, Hermione sat quietly reading in her bed while Ron was forced to frustratedly play one game of wizard chess after another against himself. While that meant he finally had an opponent that could give him a run for his money, it also meant that, for the first time in his life, he'd had no fun while playing chess. Eventually, he gave up and went to bed.

Ron had almost drifted off to sleep when the doors to the hospital wing opened once again. Visiting hours were long since over, and Madam Pomfrey had retired to her own quarters for the night. A quick look at Hermione revealed that she, too, was asleep; not surprising, as it had been a long day.

Ron rolled over so that he was facing the hospital wing doors and saw Luna Lovegood making her way across the ward as quietly as she could. He sat up when she came closer; shooting a look towards Madam Pomfrey's office to make sure that her door was still shut.

"Hello, Ronald," Luna said as she sat in the chair at his bedside.

"Hi, Luna," Ron replied in a whisper, trying his best not to wake Hermione or draw the attention of the school nurse, "You know it's past curfew; you could get in trouble."

"I don't mind," the blonde girl said, shaking her head, "Ginny told me that you finally woke up, so I thought I should come see you. I'm sorry…but I wasn't able to bring you any pudding this time."

"That's alright," he said, smiling, "You don't need to bring me something every time you visit me in the hospital wing."

"Oh, but I did bring you something. It's the reason I'm here so late…it took several hours to brew," Luna said, excitedly reaching into the bag she had slung over her shoulder and pulling out a jam jar full of a dark rust-colored liquid, "It's an infusion of Gurdyroots mixed with Dirigible Plum juice. It makes your toes tingle quite nicely if you drink it, but when applied to the skin, it's an excellent Slavering Twinkleflit repellant."

"Slobbering _what-now_?" Ron asked, giving her a confused look as he took the jar from her. He sloshed the liquid around in the jar, getting a good look at it. There was an odor about it that was not altogether appealing.

"Slavering Twinkleflits," Luna said again. She leaned in close and began whispering conspiratorially, "Most of the school thinks you and Hermione Granger were in the Forbidden Forest taking a romantic broom-ride, but I know the truth."

"Do you?" he replied, giving her an inscrutable look. He seriously doubted that she _did_ know the truth, but he wanted to hear what the enigmatic young Ravenclaw had to say nonetheless.

"Of course," she said, nodding, "It was obvious when I heard about the blindfolds that you were wearing and about the burns you'd received. Slavering Twinkleflits emit beautiful sparkling lights in a hypnotic pattern; you wore the blindfolds so you wouldn't be hypnotized. The Twinkleflits' saliva is very acidic, and they spit as a defense mechanism; that's how you got the burns."

Ron couldn't help grinning at Luna's explanation. It was so far-fetched, but it was no more far-fetched than the actual truth.

"And what do you think we were trying to do with these _Twinkiefritz_ things?" he asked, putting the jar of repellant down on his bedside table.

"Don't be silly, Ronald," the blonde girl said, laughing in that odd way she had, "Everyone knows that if you hold up a mirror to a Twinkleflit when it tries to hypnotize you, they will hypnotize themselves. Hypnotized Twinkleflits make lovely Christmas decorations with their colorful lights…as long as you don't look directly at them."

"So, we were out there trying to catch Christmas ornaments?" he replied, doing his best to hold back a laugh at the ridiculousness at the idea.

"Christmas _is_ only a few weeks away," she said, as if it made perfect sense. She then took on a very serious tone. "You really should be more careful next time, Ronald. When you go back out there, be sure to use the repellant I gave you. It will protect you from Twinkleflit saliva so you won't wind up in here again so soon."

"I'll be careful," he nodded, humoring the girl, "The very next time I go Twinkleflit hunting, I'll be sure and use your repellant."

She smiled brightly at him and rose from her seat. "I'll let you get some sleep, then. Good night, Ronald."

Ron watched Luna leave the hospital wing and hunkered down in his bed, ready to get some sleep. He had just closed his eyes when a quiet voice from beside him drew his attention.

"You know they aren't real, don't you?"

Ron rolled over onto his side and faced Hermione. She was still lying down and appeared for all the world to still be asleep. However, when she opened her eyes and looked right at him, he could see she was clearly awake.

"Slavering Twinkleflits…honestly!" Hermione huffed, "Does she realize how ridiculous she sounds?"

"She may sound a bit barmy," Ron replied, shrugging as well as he could while lying on his side, "But she's harmless."

Hermione frowned and for a split-second, he thought he saw jealousy flash in her eyes…but he figured he must be mistaken. What would she possibly have to be jealous of?

"Why do you humor her?" Hermione asked somewhat bitterly, "Going along with her delusions just encourages her to continue to act…_odd_."

"I reckon I don't see the point in telling her that all those little whatsits she's always banging on about aren't real. Plus, the last time I was in here, she brought me an entire chocolate cake; that makes her a friend in my book."

"I think she fancies you," Hermione said quietly.

"Luna? Nah…I doubt it," Ron said, chuckling, "I think she's just grown attached to me because she's friends with Ginny. Besides, Luna's not my type."

"Good to know."

With that, Hermione rolled over so that her back was to Ron, leaving him to wonder about what she'd said as he laid there waiting for sleep to finally overtake him.

* * *

The next morning, when Ron awoke, he had high hopes that this day would be much better than the previous one had been. The encounter with Umbridge and the meeting with Dumbledore had been very depressing, but things were already starting to look up.

Following her morning examination of them, Madam Pomfrey declared them to be healthy enough to return to Gryffindor tower, and told Ron and Hermione that they would be permitted to leave around lunchtime. She would arrange for a change of clothes to be brought to them, so they wouldn't have to walk through the castle in their pajamas.

When the nurse brought them breakfast – consisting, to Ron's chagrin, of porridge, toast, and fresh fruit – she also brought along the morning's owl post for Hermione. Ron wasn't surprised that, once again, he had gotten nothing. Hermione, however, had gotten a rather large package wrapped in brown paper.

"What's that?" Ron asked as Hermione hefted the parcel into her lap.

"I have no idea," Hermione admitted, shaking her head, "It's a bit too early for Christmas gifts…and I haven't purchased anything via owl order recently."

"Well, open it!" he said enthusiastically, "That's one way to find out what it is."

Hermione nodded in agreement and began carefully opening the package as if she were preserving the brown paper it was wrapped in for all of posterity. Her eyes were glinting with excitement as she finally managed to get it open, but then her face visibly fell.

"Oh."

"What? What is it?" Ron asked, concerned by her sudden change in demeanor.

"It's from Viktor," Hermione said, picking up a letter that accompanied the parcel. Her eyes quickly scanned the letter before looking down at what the parcel contained. She reached in and picked up a heavy jumper that was much too big for her. It was somewhat plain-looking, made of thick black wool with scarlet stripes on the sleeves; but as Hermione turned it around, Ron could see the word "Krum" in bold red letters across the back.

"It's his practice jumper," Ron said, recognizing the piece of clothing from similar gear he wore himself when taking part in team practices out on the pitch.

"He says that since I was so cold wearing the robes he bought for me last time, I should wear this when we meet in Hogsmeade this weekend," Hermione explained, frowning, "I suppose I shall have to write him back and let him know I won't be able to meet him in the village anymore."

"Yeah…sorry about that," Ron wasn't _really _sorry, since he really didn't want Hermione spending time with that Bulgarian git…but he couldn't come out and _say _that. Krum was her boyfriend, and as much as he hated the fact, it wasn't his place to interfere…though he desperately wanted to. He knew they were having problems…and that he, himself, had become a point of contention between the two. He wanted to tell Hermione to chuck Krum, but he didn't know if their friendship – which was somewhat new and at times seemed rather tentative – could withstand him making such a suggestion.

Hermione sighed and dropped the sweater into her lap and looked out the window, as if lost in thought. Ron remained silent, simply watching her. After about five minutes of gazing out the window, Hermione turned her attention to the jumper in her lap. She ran her fingers over the scarlet letters and frowned.

"You must be really cut-up about not meeting Vick—…err…Krum down in Hogsmeade," he said, breaking the silence. She certainly _looked_ cut-up.

"It's not that," she replied, shaking her head.

"Then, what…?"

"He gave me this to send a message," she said bitterly, "He's trying to mark me as his territory because he feels threatened."

"Threatened?" he replied quizzically, "Threatened by what?"

"By _you_."

She said it quietly, and she didn't look at him as she did. Ron couldn't believe it. Why would Krum be threatened by _him_? Krum was rich, famous, great at Quidditch and, most importantly, he was Hermione's boyfriend. Ron was nothing compared to all that.

"He's threatened by our friendship, Ron," Hermione continued, this time finally bringing herself to look at him, "He's already told me that he doesn't want us to be friends…and now he wants to make sure everyone knows…that _you know_…that I belong _to him_."

Ron didn't know what to say, so he remained quiet. He could see that Hermione was on her way to being angry over this, and he knew it was better to keep his mouth shut than to risk her turning her anger towards him.

"I'm nobody's property," she said bitterly, balling her fists up on top of the sweater in her lap, "God, it's like Viktor doesn't know me at all!"

"Maybe he doesn't," Ron said quietly.

"What?" Hermione asked, narrowing her eyes at him. He knew he was walking a thin line now.

"Hear me out," he said, trying to keep her from starting a row with him, "You and Krum were together for a few months last year…you were busy studying and he was busy preparing for the Triwizard tasks. How much time did the two of you really spend talking?"

"Not much," she admitted, nodding her head, "Most of the time we were together, he sat in the library _watching_ me study. It was a bit unnerving, to tell you the truth…and with all the Quidditch fans, both male _and_ female, following him around, it became increasingly frustrating to try and study with all the distractions. Eventually, I took to studying in my dorm where it was relatively quiet."

"And when you went to stay with him over the summer, you probably spent most of your time sightseeing and trying to learn about the Wizarding culture in Bulgaria. Plus, he probably spent a lot of time training for Quidditch…what with signing with a new team and all."

"What makes you think I spent the summer in Bulgaria?" Hermione asked sharply.

Ron blushed and looked down at his lap where he was nervously picking at his sheet. "Well, I heard that he invited you…and I figured, why _wouldn't_ you go? I mean…he's your boyfriend and all…"

"He _is_ my boyfriend," she agreed, "And he _did_ invite me to stay with him…but I didn't go. Spending the summer with someone I just met a few months before…boyfriend or not…is not something I was willing to do. And even if I _wanted_ to go, my parents would have never allowed it."

"Oh. Well…good…err…I don't mean _good_," he stammered, blushing, "What I mean is…err…it's _good_ that you didn't do something you weren't ready to do just to make _him _happy. Erm…okay, then…so…back to the point I was making…erm…_what_ was the point I was making again?"

"That Viktor doesn't really know me," she said, arching an eyebrow at him.

"Right!" he nodded, continuing on and trying to get his blushing under control, "Well…most of what he knows about you is from those five-foot-long letters you send him, and while it is possible to get to know things about a person through their letters…to _really_ get to know someone, you have to spend time with them…you know?"

"My letters to Viktor are never _that_ long," Hermione said defensively, blushing. She smiled demurely then and looked down at her lap and the heavy jumper her boyfriend had sent her, "I know what you mean, though. I think if Viktor had given me this sweater last year, I'd have been thrilled and would have worn it proudly and happily…but this year…things are different. _I'm_ different."

Ron nodded.

"I was so excited when he asked me to the Yule Ball," she said, chuckling, "_Me_…the know-it-all bookworm instead of one of those _pretty girls_ that seemed to flock to him whenever he was around. And when he asked me to be his _girlfriend_…I thought I might faint. Here I was, Hermione Granger, and not only did I have a boyfriend, but a boyfriend that made girls envious of _me_. It really was a bit overwhelming."

"I bet," he agreed.

She looked pensive when she continued. "But now…I think I'd prefer a boyfriend who really got to know me, to one who generates crowds of fans everywhere we go."

"I guess that means Lockhart's out of the running, yeah?" Ron joked, smiling.

"Again you bring up Gilderoy Lockhart?" Hermione laughed, "My God…am I ever going to live that down? I was _thirteen_…people tend to outgrow the crushes they had at thirteen."

"I dunno," he shrugged, looking down at his sheets, "I reckon it's possible to fancy someone at thirteen and _still_ fancy them when you're older."

"Still hoping Madam Rosmerta will notice you?" she asked, teasing him.

He blushed and looked away. "No…like you said…I think I outgrew that."

"So there's someone _else_ you've fancied since then?" Hermione asked, sounding intrigued yet playful, "Who is it…Lavender Brown? Parvati Patil? I thought maybe that you might fancy Luna Lovegood until you told me otherwise. So come on…if not her, then _who_?"

"Maybe we should change the subject," Ron said, not wanting to admit who it was he fancied, "What do you plan on doing with the jumper?"

"Well…I suppose I could send it back," Hermione said, clearly lost in thought, "Although I think if Viktor's _girlfriend_ sent this back to him, he might be quite put-out. Sending it back might be seen as an attempt to end things between us."

"You could sell it," Ron suggested, "Authentic Quidditch memorabilia can bring in quite a few galleons…especially if it's something that belongs to a really popular player. You could sell it and then donate the proceeds to elfish welfare."

"Elfish welfare…what are you talking about?" she asked, shooting him a funny look.

"Err…nevermind," he said, shaking his head, "Maybe you should just burn it."

Hermione broke into laughter at that suggestion, "I think that might be a bit too drastic, don't you think? No…I think I'll just send it back."

"I'd let you borrow Pig, but I don't think the little bloke could manage it."

"That's alright, Ron; the school's owls will do just fine," she said, smiling, "Once Madam Pomfrey clears us to leave, I'll go to the owlery and send it back."

"The twins might come to bother us if they have a free period this morning," he said, "If they do, we could get them to send it off for you." He was very anxious for Hermione to return the sweater…especially if it meant Krum might think she was chucking him.

"Oh, no!" she said, shaking her head vehemently, "I'm not letting your brothers near it. There's no telling what those two would do. Poor Viktor might open the box and have the sweater explode in his face."

"_Poor Viktor_?" Ron exclaimed, glaring at her. Wasn't she just _complaining_ about _'poor Viktor'_ earlier? What the Hell?

She blushed and dropped her gaze to her lap. "Just because I'm returning his jumper doesn't mean I want something horrible to happen to him."

"Merlin forbid the git who tried to treat you like property should have something bad happen to him," Ron grumbled, looking away from her.

"Ron…"

"Do what you want, I don't care," he snapped, waving his hand dismissively at her.

"I know you don't mean that," she said, sounding hurt by his words, "Why does this happen every time Viktor's name comes up?"

"Why does _what_ happen?" he growled, looking at her darkly.

"You…you get all moody…and sometimes you get downright mean," she said, frowning.

"I don't like him," Ron admitted, "Truth is, I hate him."

"But why?" Hermione asked sincerely, "Neville said you used to idolize Viktor."

Ron snorted derisively at the concept of idolizing Viktor Krum. "I also used to wear nappies and think Percy was cool. People grow, Hermione…they change."

"Don't I know it," she sighed, looking down.

"What's _that_ supposed to mean?" he asked harshly.

"You used to hate_ me_, Ron," she reminded him, "You spent four years being horrible to me and then you come back this year and you start treating me like your life is incomplete without me as your friend."

"Hermione…"

"I don't know if it's because you almost died over the summer or what," she said, "But you're _not_ the same Ron Weasley that you were."

"Hermione…!"

"Your friendship is so important to me, Ron," she confessed, tears rolling down her cheeks, "These last few months, since we've become friends, have been the happiest I've been since coming to Hogwarts. I don't want to lose your friendship."

"'Mione, you won't," he assured her, getting up out of his bed and sitting on the edge of hers, "I promise…we'll be friends to the bitter end."

"Then you need to stop getting mad at me every time I mention Viktor," she said, looking up at him with red, watery eyes, "He's my boyfriend, Ron."

"And you love him," he replied, frowning and looking down at his lap. He didn't want to hear Hermione say it, but there was really no way to get around that fact. She loved Krum, and he, Ron, would only ever be her friend…or so he thought. However, after Hermione remained quiet for nearly a minute, Ron started to doubt the conclusion he'd jumped to, "You _do_ love him, don't you?"

"I don't know," Hermione finally admitted, turning away from him to look out the window, "I know I'm supposed to…he's my boyfriend, after all. But I really don't know if I love him. Am I terrible?"

"No, of course not," Ron said, shaking his head. He didn't think she was terrible; frankly, hearing that Hermione didn't know if she was in love with Krum or not was something that gave him hope. Ever since the moment he saw her walk into the Yule Ball on Viktor Krum's arm, he had worried that he had lost her…that he had lost his chance with her. Now, however, maybe there was hope for him after all.

"Viktor can be very sweet, and I know he cares about me," Hermione said, looking down into her lap, running her fingers over Viktor's wool jumper, "But there are times…it's like he has expectations of me that I'm not entirely comfortable with."

Ron felt his stomach drop. She didn't mean…? "He…he asks you to…err…_do stuff_?" he asked, blushing to the tips of his ears. He really wasn't sure he wanted to know the answer to his question.

"What? Oh! Oh, no! Not like _that_," Hermione said, blushing heavily, "Not yet, anyway. No, I meant…like telling me what to wear and expecting me to look like I did at the Yule Ball whenever we're together…"

"You mean with the makeup and the hair?" he asked, his face still red. He was glad that the last question he'd asked her had been answered in the negative; he already despised Krum with his every breath, but if the Bulgarian had done _that_ to…_with_…Hermione…he would seriously have to consider killing the Quidditch star.

"Yes, he always wants me to _'look pretty'_ for him," she said, sighing, "And whenever I try to talk about the future…about what I'd like to do for a living…he brings up the fact that his mother never worked and just stayed home raising him and his siblings…as though that's what _I_ should do with _my life_."

"It's not uncommon for witches to stay home and raise the kids," he said, shrugging. He didn't want to seem like he was agreeing with Krum…even he could see, as thick as he often was, that Hermione Granger was not the stay-at-home mother type. However… "My mum never worked…just stayed home and took care of us kids. Of course, there _were_ seven of us."

"Exactly," she said, nodding, "There's so many of you, that she'd need to stay home…but if your mother wanted to work, I bet your father would support her…he wouldn't try and force her to stay home, right?"

"Of course," he nodded, "Dad wouldn't dare try to stand in Mum's way if she wanted to do something. Not if he knew what was good for him."

"Something tells me, though, that Viktor's mother was just _expected_ to stay home," she said bitterly, "And something tells me Viktor's _wife_ will be expected to do the same."

"Please tell me you don't plan on _marrying_ Krum!" Ron exclaimed, "'Mione, you're too young!"

"I happen to agree with you, Ron," Hermione said, nodding, "I don't plan on getting married until I'm at least out of school. My point is that Viktor doesn't seem to _care_ what I want to do with my life. I don't think I _can_ love someone like that."

"You shouldn't have to," he said, shaking his head, "You're a brilliant witch, and I know you. You're going to go _far_ once you're out of school…bloody Hell, Hermione, I wouldn't be the least bit surprised if you changed the world."

Hermione blushed heavily, smiling demurely, "Thanks."

He nodded in acknowledgement before continuing, "I don't know much about being in love…and I'm rubbish with feelings…except for the ones that see me putting my foot in my mouth and either getting me in trouble or hurting somebody's feelings…but I don't think you should have to love someone who doesn't respect you enough to care about what you want."

Hermione sat there looking at him, seemingly stunned. "Who are you and what have you done with Ron Weasley?"

"Err…"

"Seriously, Ron, I'm jealous," she said, smiling at him, "Whoever that girl is that you've fancied since you were thirteen is really lucky…provided you tell her how you feel."

"I don't think I can do that," he said, shaking his head.

"Why not?" she asked, frowning.

"She's got a boyfriend," he said, looking down, "And even though he's a real git, I doubt I can compete with him; he can give her everything, and I can't give her _anything_."

"Now you listen to me, Ron Weasley," Hermione said with a seriously stern look on her face, "Don't you _ever_ say that about yourself. You're a great guy…and the best friend I've ever had…so don't put yourself down, okay? Any girl would be lucky to have you…"

"Any girl?" he asked softly, reaching out and placing his hand atop hers. He looked up at her and her eyes widened.

"Ron…who is she…who's the girl you fancy?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Hermione…"

"Ron…"

He didn't know what made him think this was a good idea…that it was worth the risk. Dancing around fuzzily in the back of his head were visions of some other world and some other girl…or, rather, the same girl…which was why this seemed to make sense; as crazy as that sounded.

Ron leaned in…she leaned in…he could feel her breath on his face, her nose bumping slightly against his own, her hair seeming to engulf them both. He closed his eyes as his visual field was filled with her face. This was going to happen…they were going to kiss.

"Viktor!" Hermione gasped, pulling away at the last possible second, sounding completely mortified by what they had almost done, "Ron, I have a boyfriend…I can't do this. I'm sorry…I…I can't!"

Ron was at a loss for words and could do nothing but watch as Hermione jumped out of her bed and fled the hospital wing, Viktor's jumper trailing behind her as she ran, leaving him behind with nothing but his thoughts and wounded pride.

* * *

**Author's End Notes****: **Well, there you have it. Almost three chapters' worth of Ron/Hermione interaction all rolled up into one! I hope you enjoyed it, and if you did...or even if you didn't...feel free to let me know.

Look for the next chapter to be up in, hopefully, two weeks.


	25. Holiday Reflections

**Author's Notes****:** Merry Christmas! Okay, okay…I know it's July…but this is the first of several chapters that take place over the Christmas holiday. The timing of the chapter couldn't be helped.

The Christmas holidays are usually the halfway point in the HARRY POTTER books, and the same is true for this story. From here, things will start to heat up, eventually leading to what I call "the Big Reveal" when many questions will start to get answered.

**Thanks****: **Thanks to everyone who reviews; they keep me motivated. Special thanks, as always, to my beta CutewithAcapital-Q…she REALLY keeps me motivated…often with a cattleprod!

**Disclaimer****: **JKR's stuff, not mine.

* * *

_**MIRROR, MIRROR**_

**Chapter 25 – "Holiday Reflections"**

Sixteen days had passed since Hermione had fled the hospital wing after she and Ron had almost kissed…and every one of those days had been like a nightmare for Ron.

It started for Ron when Madam Pomfrey had returned to the hospital wing with two sets of school robes only to find that one of her patients had run off. The nurse was angry with Hermione for leaving without permission, until Ron confessed to being the cause. Once she knew that he had upset Hermione and that's why she fled, Ron found himself on the receiving end of a stern lecture from the matron.

Once he'd been released from the infirmary, the rumors about the supposedly romantic broom-ride through the Forbidden Forest caught up with him, and he had to put up with a lot of teasing – some of it good-natured, some of it not – from almost everyone he encountered.

Worst of all was Malfoy.

"I don't know what's worse," Malfoy said loudly as Ron entered the Great Hall the morning after he was released, "Granger cheating on her famous Quidditch player boyfriend with a poverty-stricken blood-traitor, or the Weasel defiling a pure bloodline by getting off with a Mudblood."

If it hadn't been for Neville who'd entered the Great Hall with him, Ron would have been in yet more trouble as he fully intended to hex Malfoy to within an inch of his life. Instead, Neville grabbed Ron and frog-marched him to the Gryffindor table where they ate breakfast with Ginny.

As bad as the mocking he took from most of the students about the broom-ride was, it was nothing in comparison to what he had to deal with from Angelina Johnson when she heard the news that his broom had been destroyed.

It started with a stern talking-to about the importance of being a team player and how breaking one's broom a month into the Quidditch season was a poor example of team play. She then insisted that he practice every day with her, one-on-one, until he adjusted to the less-than-stellar school broom he'd be forced to use. The school brooms tended to be rather dodgy, so Ron wasn't exactly thrilled with his predicament. Luckily though, Gryffindor didn't play anyone until after the Christmas holiday.

And speaking of the Christmas holiday, Ron received an overwhelmingly bad piece of news concerning the Yule break from Professor McGonagall a week before the break.

"Mr. Weasley, I received an owl from Professor Dumbledore this morning," the Transfiguration teacher said after making him stay after class, "He is currently traveling, and he will not be returning before the end of term."

"Is he looking for information on those items from the Chamber of Secrets?" he asked, hoping the headmaster would find out what those things were soon.

"I believe so, yes," McGonagall nodded, "But the reason I called you up here is because Dumbledore is requesting that you go home for the Christmas break."

"What?" Ron exclaimed, unable to believe his ears.

"Mr. Weasley, please refrain from yelling," the teacher said with a stern frown on her face.

"Sorry, Professor," he replied, thoroughly chastened.

"According to Dumbledore's note," she continued, "Fred, George, and Ginny Weasley will all be going home for the holiday, and in order to keep up appearances, you are to go with them."

"But Dumbledore said he doesn't want me or Hermione leaving school grounds because we're in danger," Ron said, trying to make McGonagall understand why he couldn't go home, "If I go home, I'm just going to put _all_ the Weasleys in danger!"

"Dumbledore says that there will be members of the Order guarding you and Miss Granger and your families at all times," the deputy headmistress explained, "You'll be perfectly safe."

"Yeah," Ron snorted, "Unless he lets 'Dung Fletcher guard one of us."

"Mundungus Fletcher will not be allowed to take part in the guard duty, Mr. Weasley," she replied, "You have my word on that."

And just like that, Ron was being forced to spend the Christmas holiday with the Weasleys. It was going to be Hell and he knew it. Ginny and the twins had come to accept him, but it had taken time…time the rest of the Weasleys would not have before he was thrown into their midst. Christmas break, which he had looked forward to, once upon a time, was shaping up to be the worst two weeks of his life.

And as bad as all that was, it wasn't even the worst part of his sixteen day nightmare. No, that title was held by Hermione. Ever since they had almost kissed, and she had clearly rejected him for Viktor-sodding-Krum, she had been avoiding him.

She would eat at the far end of the Gryffindor table, she would sit as far away from him in class as possible, she would study and do her homework up in her dorm, and she had even arranged for one of the Ravenclaw prefects to patrol with him each week just so she wouldn't be alone with him.

Ron Weasley was well-known for being thick, but he got the message loud-and-clear: Hermione Granger wanted nothing to do with him anymore. And as if she didn't think he'd gotten the message clear enough, Viktor Krum paid her a visit at the castle.

He didn't actually see Krum with his own two eyes, since he had been up in the common room trying his best to finish a Potions essay that was due the following day. However, a group of excited first and second years told the tale of Viktor Krum and Hermione Granger taking a walk around the castle grounds.

He felt like a complete arse. Not only did he alienate Hermione and ruin their friendship, but he drove her full-steam into the arms of Krum.

He heaved a great mournful sigh as he watched the scenery whiz past the window of the Hogwarts Express. Ginny and Neville had tried to cheer him up, but he was too far gone. Everything was weighing down on him and there was nothing and nobody who could get him out of his funk.

* * *

When the Hogwarts Express pulled into King's Cross Station, Ron made a point of dragging his feet and moving as slowly as possible, so he'd be the last one off the train. Meeting the rest of the Weasleys was something he was not looking forward to.

He didn't want to be a source of pain for his…for _the other Ron's_…family, but he knew that seeing him was going to be like pouring salt into an open wound. Ginny and the twins had come to accept him, but it hadn't happened right away, and he'd been able to give them the space they needed…but with everyone staying at the Burrow, practically living on top of each other, space would be the last thing available to anyone.

Heaving a great sigh, Ron finally made his way off the train. Ginny had kept Pig with her, so all he had to deal with was his trunk. Shoving it haphazardly onto a baggage trolley, Ron took a look around for his "family".

The magical platform had all-but emptied out, and Ron was a bit surprised when he didn't see a single head of Weasley red hair. They had most certainly come to pick up Fred, George, and Ginny…did they decide to leave him behind?

_"Wouldn't blame 'em if they did,"_ he thought as he approached the portal leading away from Platform 9¾ into the Muggle portion of the train station.

With a heavy heart, Ron stepped through the portal, pushing his trolley before him into the busy train station full of Muggles. Not knowing what else to do in the event that he _had_ been left behind, Ron pushed his trolley towards the station's exit, figuring that if worse-came-to-worst he could always hop a ride on the Knight Bus and take it…_somewhere_.

The fact that the exterior of the train station was well-lit did little to lighten Ron's mood…which was as dark as the December night surrounding him. Snow was falling heavily and he huddled the old Muggle-style coat he wore tighter around himself, though he wasn't entirely sure the chill he felt was from the fluffy white flakes falling all around him.

"Hi."

The soft, unsure voice behind him yanked Ron out of his reverie, startling him. Turning around, Ron's eyes widened at the sight before him. Hermione stood there, bundled up against the cold and snow in posh Muggle clothing, next to a luggage trolley piled high with her belongings. She was looking shyly at the ground, her gloved fingers fidgeting nervously.

"Oh…err…hi," Ron replied, his voice cracking slightly. He shoved his hands into his coat pockets to keep from fidgeting like she was. He hadn't expected to run into Hermione, and considering how she'd been avoiding him, he certainly didn't expect her to strike up a conversation with him. "Didn't see you there."

"Yes, well…you looked lost in thought…I'm sorry if I'm bothering you," she quickly looked away; her cheeks were rosy, but he wasn't entirely sure it was from the cold.

"No, you're not…it's okay," he said, kicking at the sidewalk beneath his feet, "I was just trying to figure out where the…err…where _my family_…had gotten to." It felt strange, talking to her like this after her rejection and avoidance of him. He honestly didn't know where he stood with her anymore.

"Oh!" she exclaimed, suddenly looking surprised and a bit worried, "I saw your family leave about ten minutes ago. Your mother looked awfully distraught."

Ron sighed. Of course she looked distraught…she was going to have to watch the spitting image of her dead son walking around like the other Ron Weasley…_her_ Ron Weasley…had never even existed.

"I reckon I got left behind," he said glumly.

"How will you get home?" she asked, concerned, "Ottery St. Catchpole is too far to walk and – oh! What about what Dumbledore said about us being in danger? Potter could show up here and try to finish what he started!"

Ron shrugged. That _did_ seem to be a huge flaw in Dumbledore's plan. Yes, going home to spend Christmas with the other Weasleys would keep up appearances, but if the headmaster really thought they were in danger from Harry, letting them go home for Christmas…or _forcing_, in his case…seemed to be a stupid move. Of course, Ron was told that members of the Order would be guarding him and Hermione, but he didn't _see_ anyone from the Order. And if he was left behind, he could very easily be a sitting duck; unless, of course, Dumbledore was using them as bait to try and get Harry to show himself. Ron's stomach sank and his face paled at the possibility. Did Dumbledore really have it in him to use Ron as a lure to draw Harry out into the open?

"Ron, listen…" Hermione's voice brought him out of his thoughts once again. She was changing the subject, and looked very uncomfortable about it; she wouldn't make eye contact with him as she spoke, "About what happened in the hospital wing…"

Ron held his breath, not certain he wanted to hear this. She had rejected him in favor of Viktor Krum, plain and simple. She didn't need to rub it in by talking about it.

"Ron, I –"

"Hermione!"

Hermione and Ron turned simultaneously to see her parents rushing towards them across the car park. Red-nosed and rosy-cheeked, the Grangers hurried over and each gave their daughter a massive hug.

"So sorry we're late, poppet," her father said, pulling back to take a good long look at her, "Your mother wanted to finish up some last minute shopping for our ski holiday and it took loner than she thought it would."

"And who was it, John Granger, who caused us to have such a late start on our shopping because he couldn't pull himself away from the telly?" Mrs. Granger asked in a mock-scolding tone. She exchanged a teasing scowl with her husband before planting a kiss on Hermione's cheek, "I am sorry, though, dear. Look at you…you must be frozen!"

"Mum, Dad, it's fine, really," Hermione said, rolling her eyes as her parents let go of her, "I haven't been waiting long, and –"

"And I see you've got company," her mother said excitedly as she spotted Ron standing a few feet away, awkwardly trying not to intrude on the family reunion, "Introduce us to your friend, Hermione."

"Err…right," Hermione said, blushing, "This is Ronald…err…Ron…Weasley…Ron Weasley; he's a boy."

"Well-spotted, poppet," Mr. Granger joked, patting her on the back.

"We can _see_ that he's a boy, Hermione," Mrs. Granger said softly, as if talking to a small child.

"In my class, I mean," Hermione nervously explained, "His name is Ron Weasley and he's a boy in my class."

Ron bit back a smirk at the way Hermione was so flustered. He didn't get to see her like this very often, and it amused him greatly.

"It's very nice to meet you, Ron," Mrs. Granger said, reaching out and shaking his hand, "Hermione has never introduced us to any of her friends before."

"None of her _age-appropriate_ friends, anyway," Mr. Granger added as he, too, reached out and shook Ron's hand, "She's introduced us to plenty of Bulgarian _men_, though."

Ron arched an eyebrow in curiosity. Hermione's father definitely did not sound as though he was a big fan of his daughter's boyfriend. If that was the case, Ron could definitely see himself becoming fast friends with John Granger.

"Daddy, it was _one_ Bulgarian, and Viktor is a nice boy," Hermione replied. She looked nervously at Ron and he scowled, not needing to be reminded that she had rejected him for Krum, "You just never gave him a chance."

"Hermione," Mr. Granger argued, "When a man who's nearly twenty wants to take your fifteen-year-old daughter to another country for the summer, he's not a 'nice boy'…he's a predatory paedophile! He's lucky I didn't have him arrested last summer when he –"

"_This_ is not the time or place for this discussion," Mrs. Granger interrupted, giving Ron an uncomfortable smile the he awkwardly returned.

"It doesn't matter anyway," Hermione sighed; she suddenly looked Ron straight in the eye, "I broke up with Viktor."

"You did?" Ron and Mr. Granger spoke at the same time, both of them thoroughly pleased with this turn of events. Ron blushed when Hermione arched her eyebrow at him for his excitement at Viktor's misfortune.

"Oh, Hermione, I'm sorry," Mrs. Granger said, pulling her daughter into a sympathetic hug, "I know how hard it can be to break up with your first boyfriend. I was a little older than you are when it happened to me…"

"Simon Skinner," Mr. Granger snorted derisively, "Didn't he kill someone?"

"That is an unfounded rumor, John, and you know it," Mrs. Granger replied curtly, "He runs a very successful supermarket in a village up north."

"You're well-rid of him, is what I'm saying, Lizzie," Mr. Granger replied, rolling his eyes in a manner very reminiscent of his daughter, "And Hermione is well-rid of Viktor."

"John!" Elizabeth Granger looked fairly exasperated with her husband.

"What? I'm just saying that if Hermione _must_ date a boy – and I'm totally fine if you never want to date again, poppet – not only should he _be_ a boy, but he should live in the same ruddy country," John Granger blustered on, "Ron! How old are you?"

"What…?" Ron was caught completely by surprise when the ranting Mr. Granger addressed him, "Err…fifteen…"

"And where do you live?"

"Err…Devon…"

"There!" Mr. Granger exclaimed as if his point had just been made for him, "Fifteen, living in Devon. There _are_ age-appropriate boys out there."

"Daddy, please stop!" Hermione pleaded, "You're embarrassing me, and I think you're probably scaring Ron! Besides, Viktor is out of the picture now, so you can relax."

"We should really be going," Mrs. Granger said, once her husband and daughter had stopped their verbal jousting, "The snow's really coming down and the roads are getting worse by the minute. Will your family be arriving soon, Ron?"

"Oh no!" Hermione exclaimed, seeming to have suddenly remembered her earlier conversation with Ron, "Mum, Dad, Ron's parents have left him stranded. We need to give him a lift."

"All the way to Devon?" John Granger exclaimed incredulously, "Hermione, I'd like to help your friend, but Devon's more than two hundred kilometers from here!"

"But, Dad…!"

"John, we can't just leave the boy stranded…"

"No worries," Ron said, not wanting to inconvenience Hermione's family, "I'll just catch the Knight Bus."

"You'll do no such thing!"

Ron and the Grangers turned at the sound of the new voice joining their conversation, just in time to see Arthur Weasley approaching from out of the darkness. Ron's stomach clenched at the sight of a face that should familiar, but instead looked completely alien to him.

Ron's father was in his early forties, but the man who appeared before him looked significantly older. His blue eyes looked tired and no longer held the spark of joy Ron had seen in them so many times before. There were more lines on the man's face than Ron remembered as less hair atop the man's balding head. This was the look of a man who'd had to bury his own child.

"There will be no more talk of taking the Knight Bus…_son_," Arthur said, hesitating before saying the last word, "Molly's upset enough with all that's going on; she doesn't need you adding to it by wandering off on the Knight Bus."

"Right…well…we'll just be going, then," Mr. Granger said, sounding a bit uncomfortable with the tension that filled the air upon Mr. Weasley's arrival, "You ladies wait here while I pull the car around. Nice meeting you, Ron."

Ron was a bit too stunned to speak, so he nodded numbly as Mr. Granger left. Arthur seemed angry with him, and while Ron understood why his _'father'_ was upset with him, it didn't make it any easier to take. Why couldn't Dumbledore have just let him stay at the castle for the holiday?

"Say goodbye to your friend and let's be off," Arthur said curtly, moving away from Ron and the Granger women as if to give them a modicum of privacy.

"Err…bye, Hermione," Ron said, waving lamely. He felt incredibly awkward talking to her with their parents around.

"Have a happy Christmas, Ron," Hermione replied, waving back. From the look on her face, she felt awkward as well; oddly enough, it made him feel better to know it wasn't just him.

Mr. Granger pulled up in a sleek, silver saloon and as he got out to load Hermione's trunk and cat carrier into the car, strains of Muggle Christmas music issued forth from within. The Grangers waved goodbye to Ron and Arthur and drove off into the night. Once the Grangers were out of sight, Ron grabbed his trunk and began following Arthur away from the train station.

"How're we getting home, Da-…err…Mr. Weasley?" Ron asked after walking in silence for five minutes with on the soft _shush_ of falling snow and the grating _scrape_ of his trunk dragging along the pavement to break up the quiet.

Arthur stiffened visibly at the sound of Ron's voice. He answered without looking back, his voice devoid of emotion.

"We're walking."

"Walking?" Ron exclaimed, stopping in his tracks and dropping his trunk, "All the way back to the Burrow? That's mental!"

"We're not going to the Burrow," Mr. Weasley replied in the same emotionless tone without breaking his stride, "We'll be staying somewhere secret, safe and secure."

"Oh," Ron had a pretty good idea where they were headed now, but he didn't say anything more. He'd gotten the distinct impression that his 'father' didn't feel much like talking with him.

Twenty minutes later, they were standing outside Number Twelve Grimauld Place. Ron was freezing and he was exhausted; all he wanted to do was crawl into a nice warm bed and sleep for a week. Unfortunately, there seemed to be a problem, as Arthur just stood outside, not making any effort to go inside.

"What're we waiting for?" Ron asked grumpily, not wanting to stand around in the snow all night.

Arthur sighed and fished around in his coat pocket before pulling out a slip of paper, "The house in unplottable; in order to see it, you must read what's on this slip of paper, memorize it, then destroy it."

"I can already see the house," Ron replied impatiently, "Can we just go in already? I'm nearly frozen through!"

"What do you mean you can see the house?" Arthur asked hotly, pulling out his wand, "How do you know about this place? Who told you?"

"We spent the whole summer here," Ron said quickly, unsure if he was in danger of being hexed or not, "We moved in and started getting the place set up as headquarters after You-Know-Who came back."

Arthur eyed him warily. Ron could see the conflict going on inside the man through his eyes. He wanted to believe Ron, but he also wanted to keep the remainder of his family safe.

Finally, Arthur touched his wand to the piece of paper and it burst into flames; a second later the scrap of paper was a small pile of ash that Arthur vanished a moment later.

"Let's get in out of the cold, then," Arthur said, moving towards the steps of Number Twelve. He tapped his wand on the shabby-looking black door, just below the tarnished silver knocker in the shape of a twisted serpent. A series of loud metallic clicks and the clatter of a chain could be heard from within. The door creaked open and Arthur pushed his way inside.

"Come on, if you're coming; and be mindful of –"

"Mrs. Black's portrait," Ron said, interrupting him, "I know, I know."

Ron followed Arthur inside Number Twelve, dragging his trunk along behind him. The house looked a lot like Ron expected it to look, though it was definitely a lot cleaner than the one he'd spent the summer in.

"Your room's on the second floor," Arthur said, waving towards the dark staircase, "Second door on the right."

"Right…thanks," Ron said, dragging his trunk toward the stairs. As he passed Arthur, Ron turned to face the elder Weasley, "For what it's worth, I'm sorry. I know having me around isn't easy…it must hurt something awful, and I'm sorry. I know Dumbledore is forcing you and your family to put me up for the holiday…but I'll do what I can to keep out of your hair as much as possible."

With that said, Ron made his way up the stairs, following the familiar path he'd walked for the majority of the summer, up to the second landing and stopping at the first door on the right. He wondered if it was in any better condition than it was when he shared it with Harry.

_"Only one way to find out,"_ he thought, turning the snakehead-shaped doorknob and opening the door.

He entered the high-ceilinged room and his eyes widened and in surprise. Instead of the two single beds he and Harry occupied over the summer, the room was dominated by one large bed with tattered linens. That wasn't the surprising bit, however. The occupants of the bed are what surprised him.

Lying atop the bed, curled up closely together was a large wolf and an equally large black dog. The instant the door opened, both animals looked up, their attention drawn to the intruder. The wolf seemed to quickly lose interest and lay back down, but the dog was another story.

The moment Ron opened the door and entered the room, the black dog leapt off the bed and straight at him, snarling and growling and barking and snapping its teeth menacingly as it pounced.

Ron tried to retreat from the room quickly as a sudden flashback from Third Year hit him and he wanted to avoid bite wounds and broken bones. Unfortunately, his trunk was on the floor behind him and as Ron hurried from the room, he fell over it, landing on his back and hitting his head so hard it sent his ears ringing.

The black dog was on top of him immediately, spraying him with saliva as it barked loudly in his face. Ron brought his arms up across his face defensively, but they were roughly slapped away and he found himself being unceremoniously yanked to his feet, his head spinning.

"What the Hell do you think you're doing, boy?" a fully-human Sirius Black demanded angrily, shoving Ron hard against the hallway wall, "Do you realize how easily you could have been ripped to pieces right now? There's a full moon tonight, you fool!"

Ron's face paled and his head throbbed. He'd never seen Sirius look so angry…so crazed…at least not since he escaped from Azkaban and came looking for Scabbers.

"Muh-my room…" Ron managed to stammer, swallowing nervously.

There was the sudden _crack_ of Apparition, and Arthur Weasley appeared on the landing, wand drawn and looking frantic.

"What is all the commotion up here?" Arthur demanded hotly, looking from Sirius to Ron and back again, "You've made so much noise, you've gotten Mrs. Black screaming her head off again!"

"Your _'son'_," Sirius said, practically spitting the word, "Decided to let himself into Remus' room unannounced! If he hadn't taken his potion tonight, Remus would have torn this idiot to shreds!"

"Why did you do that?" Arthur asked, turning his attention back to Ron, "Don't you know how dangerous that can be?"

"I…I thought it was _my_ room," Ron said quickly, out-of-sorts since Sirius still had him pinned up against the wall, "That's the room I slept in over the summer. I went in out of habit."

"Well, it's _Remus'_ room _here_," Sirius growled, letting Ron go and making his way back into the werewolf's bedroom, "You'd best remember it if you value your neck."

Ron sighed shakily as Sirius slammed the door to Lupin's room. He felt like he was going to be sick as the adrenaline started to wear off.

"I told you, _'second_ door on the right'," Arthur said, moving over and opening the door to the room Ron had been given and raising his wand to light the lamps, "You're not on _your_ world anymore; you might want to curb your _habits_ before they get you killed…Ron."

Ron looked up, surprised to hear Arthur say his name. He no longer sounded angry or emotionless as he had earlier; now he just sounded sad. Before Ron could say anything, though, Arthur had disappeared with a _pop_.

Ron entered his room, dragging his trunk to the foot of his bed before sitting heavily on the old moth-eaten mattress. He was exhausted, both physically and emotionally. He didn't want to be here, and it was obvious that no one wanted him here, either.

"Why the Hell couldn't Dumbledore just leave me at Hogwarts?" he asked the empty room.

He kicked off his trainers and crawled into bed, trying to ignore the grumbling in his stomach from not having eaten in several hours.

"Maybe I can sleep for the entire two weeks that I'm here," he joked cynically.

He closed his eyes and despite his troubled mind and empty stomach, exhaustion overtook him and Ron slipped into a troubled sleep.

* * *

Ron wasn't sure how long he'd been sleeping when he was set upon by a nightmare in which he had to watch Harry cast the Killing Curse at this world's Ron Weasley and then sit by and mutely observe the painful and aggrieved reaction of each member of the Weasley family as they came upon the lifeless body. If that wasn't nightmarish enough, the Weasleys then turned on _him_ and laid the blame for their ongoing agony and continued sorrow at his feet.

He awoke in a cold sweat, shaking like a leaf. It took him a minute to realize where he was and then a wave of despair washed over him; this wasn't a nightmare…this was his reality. He really _was_ stuck here.

An intense hunger pang gripped his stomach and Ron knew there was no way he would be able to sleep or do much of anything else until he got something to eat. Going downstairs was the last thing he wanted to do, for fear of running into the Weasleys…but that was the only way he was going to get any food in his belly.

Getting up out of bed, Ron slowly made his way to the door and, opening it a crack, checked the hall to make sure he wasn't about to run afoul of anybody. In his stockinged feet, Ron made his way down the dark staircase and only stopped when he heard voices coming from the dining room at the end of the ground floor corridor.

"Don't you think you're being a tad bit ridiculous, Molly?" Arthur Weasley asked his wife in that tone he reserved only for those occasions when he and his wife were quarreling over something, "You can't starve him; the boy needs to eat!"

"Then he can take his meals in his room and that horrible house elf can bring them to him," Molly replied, her voice shrill, "I don't want him here, Arthur! It's bad enough we had to hide the funeral, but now we have to pretend that this _imposter_ is our little Ronnie? No…I refuse. He can stay in his room until it's time to go back to Hogwarts."

"Molly, my love, be reasonable," Arthur pleaded, and Ron was surprised to hear that Mr. Weasley seemed to be on his side…at least about this.

"No!" Molly shouted, sounding more frantic and out-of-sorts than Ron ever thought she could sound, "I know it's selfish and it makes me a horrible person, but I want him gone and I want our children to stop having to pretend their brother didn't die! I want to mourn my baby boy, Arthur! He was a good boy and he deserves to have his family mourn him properly…not in secret while that…that…doppelganger walks around wearing his clothes and living his life!"

"Molly, Dumbledore says –"

"Hang Dumbledore!" Molly screamed, "Hang him and that ridiculous prophecy…and hang this bloody 'mission' too!"

Ron couldn't believe he'd heard her curse. But, then, he was hearing a lot tonight that he never thought he'd hear Molly Weasley say.

"Dumbledore is the greatest living wizard known to man," Arthur said sternly, "And as painful as it may be, Molly, we must defer to his wisdom in this matter."

"If Dumbledore is so wise," Molly snapped, "Then why on Earth did he rely on that _criminal_, Mundungus Fletcher, to protect our boy instead of someone who could be counted on to stay at his post and keep our boy alive?"

"Molly, please…"

"That boy is a constant reminder of how Dumbledore failed us, Arthur," Molly continued, unimpeded by her husband's pleas, "He's a constant reminder of how our family has been shattered…of the gaping hole in all our lives. How can we ever hope to heal with his very presence throwing our pain back in our faces?"

"Molly…"

"I'll have nothing to do with him," she said, as if that was the final word on the matter, "And I'll not force our children to be around him either. It's bad enough that Fred, George, and poor Ginny have to be around him at school."

"Molly…Ginny and the twins have warmed to him…you heard them at dinner; perhaps we should –"

"No! Absolutely not!" Molly yelled, "I won't hear of it!"

Ron had heard enough. As bad as he felt before coming downstairs, hearing the Weasley parents arguing over him made him feel a thousand times worse. His stomach rumbled again and instead of returning to his room as he had intended, he quietly slipped past the dining room and down the basement stairs leading to the kitchen.

Arthur's voice was the last thing he heard before making his way into the dark and gloomy kitchen in search of food.

"I know you're hurting, Molly; we all are. Not a second goes by that I don't miss our Ronnie…and not a day goes by that I don't curse Dumbledore for not being more careful. I know it hurts to see this other Ron…but Molly, if the situation were reversed, and it was _our_ Ron all alone on a strange world facing the most difficult task of his life…how would you want that other world's Molly and Arthur to treat him? Would you want them to shun our boy and make him feel even more alone, or would you want those Weasleys to take him in and treat him like one of their own?"

* * *

**Author's End Notes****: **There you have it…the first Christmas chapter. Not exactly a good night for Ron. Let me know what you think, and check back in about two weeks for the next update.


	26. Reflections of a not so Silent Night

**Author's Notes****:** As I sit here typing this, _**MIRROR, MIRROR**_has reached the 700 review mark! Un-frickin'-believable! To say that I was excited to see this story reach such a milestone is a gross understatement. Thank you, to everyone who has taken the time to post a review.

As you know, this chapter is late…which has, unfortunately, become a theme with me recently. I'm sorry; I honestly expected this chapter to be ready on-time since I wrote this chapter and the previous one over a year ago and they were complete with only the minor inconvenience of typing them up needed to get them out to you. Chapter 25 needed very little editing before being able to be posted, but this chapter…this chapter required much deeper editing that resulted in the delay.

I've actually been thinking about changing my self-imposed two-week posting schedule, since I can't seem to hit the two-week deadline these days. Three weeks seems to give me that extra cushion to get the stories out and I'm seriously considering just calling it quits on the two-week thing and instituting a three-week schedule from here on out. I dunno…I hate to do it, since that means you guys would have to wait an extra week for a new post, but if it's going to take me three weeks _anyway_, wouldn't it be better if you were just _expecting it_ to take three weeks? We'll see what happens with Chapter 27 before I make my final decision.

Does anybody watch "Extreme Makeover: Home Edition"? Yeah…I don't. I only mention this because over the last couple of weeks (though with the inconvenience, it seems longer), they did a build here in my neighborhood…three houses up the street in fact. Well…it wasn't a _house_ when they got there…it was a vacant lot where a house had been burned to the ground a couple of years back…but they built a house on it. Actually, it's a home…a _"girls' home"_. Now, if that means what I think it means (okay…now I've got Inigo Montoya stuck in my head going "I do not think that mean what chu think it means"), I don't know what sort of impact it's going to have on the neighborhood…but I do know it means it might not be a bad idea to just chain my 15 year old nephew to the radiator in his bedroom before he gets into any trouble…or _more trouble_, as the case may be.

Also, if anybody has ever thought that it would be keen to have a Hollywood reality show doing an episode in your neighborhood? Let me get that idea out of your head right now. It means your entire street is blocked off to traffic, and you need to equivalent of a backstage pass just to get in or out of your neighborhood…which makes going to and from work, or the store, or just _anywhere_ a complete and total hassle, thanks to the gauntlet of police officers you have to navigate, proving to each one that yes, you do in fact live in that neighborhood. Also, you'd better hope you have a driveway, because every available inch of curb-space is taken up with trailers for the crew. OH! And the best part is the work goes on 24 hours a day! It was 4 in the frickin' morning, and I was still hearing the *bee*bee*beep* of construction vehicles backing up. And then there was the weird French dude who you'll find lounging in the shade of your tree on his lunch break when you come walking out of your house to check the mail. Why French? I dunno…that's where he said he was from!

Okay, one last thing to say before I do my Thank Yous and my Disclaimer…

A few weeks back, "LEGO Harry Potter: Years 1-4" came out for various gaming platforms. I've been a big fan of the LEGO games franchise ever since the original Star Wars Trilogy (or as I like to think of it, _the Star Wars Trilogy_) got the LEGO treatment. I've also played the Indiana Jones and Batman LEGO games, but I think the Harry Potter game is my favorite by far. There's an expansive Hogwarts environment for you to explore, which is just awesome. And while the game isn't perfect (I would have liked to have seen the actual Quidditch World Cup…not just the chaos after it, and the Yule Ball be included…as cut-scene movies if nothing else), it is incredibly enjoyable. But I'll warn you right now…Year 2 is the toughest! Fighting Aragog and fighting the Basilisk barely give you any time to breathe, let alone find stuff…so be prepared! If you've played the game, let me know what _you_ think about it…let's get a little dialogue going!

**Thanks****:** I've already thanked my reviewers, but I'll do it again…thanks! And thanks as always to my beat, CutewithAcapital-Q for her tireless dedication in putting up with my crazy ass all the time.

**Disclaimer****:** You know the drill…it ain't mine…it's that nice British lady's.

* * *

_**MIRROR, MIRROR**_

**Chapter 26 – "Reflections of a not-so Silent Night"**

Ron had managed to make himself a plate full of sandwiches from leftovers he had found in the kitchen along with a tall glass of pumpkin juice to wash it all down. It wasn't the mouthwatering feast the others had no doubt enjoyed, but Ron was so hungry he'd have settled for a cheese-and-pickle sandwich and a sack of pawn-flavored crisps.

He was just finishing up his meal when he heard the thunderous sound of footsteps running down the basement steps highlighted by very feminine giggling. Ron stiffened in his chair, bracing himself for whatever was about to happen. He expected to be on the receiving end of the ire of whatever member of the Weasley family or the Order that was just about to enter the room. What actually happened was the last thing Ron expected.

Nymphadora Tonks was the first one to enter the kitchen, laughing gaily with rosy cheeks and bright bubblegum pink hair. She was followed closely by Charlie Weasley, sporting a mischievous grin as he chased Tonks, fingers poised to tickle the young Auror as she fled.

Ron and Charlie locked eyes the moment he entered the room, and a split-second later, the second-oldest Weasley son moved with purpose across the kitchen. Ron jumped to his feet in fear of what he assumed was to be some sort of assault, either physical or magical. Of course, when Charlie pulled him into a quick one-armed hug and then ruffled his hair, Ron could have been knocked over with a feather.

"Alright there, little brother?" Charlie asked, smiling at Ron.

"Wuh…uh…what?" Ron stammered, dumbfounded.

"What's wrong?" Charlie asked, "Didn't expect to see me for Christmas this year?"

"Err…" Ron honestly didn't know what to say.

"Oi, Charlie! Are you gonna introduce me or what?"

Ron and Charlie turned their attention to Tonks. She stood with her arms folded across her chest, arching an eyebrow at Charlie, her hair shifting to red.

"Right," Charlie nodded, "Ron, this is Tonks…Tonks, this is my little brother, Ron."

"Wotcher, Ron," Tonks said. She extended her hand towards Ron and began moving across the kitchen towards him, promptly tripping over her own two feet, "Ah, bugger!"

Charlie chuckled, hurrying over to help Tonks to her feet. "Tonks here isn't the most graceful thing on two legs, but she does have other _more appealing_ attributes," he said, winking at Ron.

"Watch it, Weasley," Tonks said, shooting a glare Charlie's way, "Or when I get you alone, I'll hex off one of _your_ 'more appealing attributes'." She then turned her attention to Ron and her face softened, "It's nice to meet you Ron. I'll try not to hold being _this git's_ brother against you."

"Err…yeah…okay," Ron said numbly, shaking her hand. He'd already met Tonks before…_the other Tonks_ on _that other world_, but from the way she and Charlie were acting, he wasn't sure they knew who he was…so he didn't bring it up.

"Tonks, why don't you wait for me upstairs," Charlie said turning serious for the first time since entering the room, "I think Ronnie and I need to have a little talk."

"Just remember to grab the Firewhiskey before you come up," Tonks said before leaving the room.

Silence enveloped the room for several moments before Ron asked one of the many questions floating around in his head…and probably the least likely to get him hexed. "So…you and Tonks?"

"Yeah…we were at Hogwarts together," Charlie said while rooting through the cupboards in search of something, "We dated a few times and then sort of lost track after school. I had my dragons and she wanted to be an Auror – aha!" he emerged from the cupboard, successful in his search, triumphantly holding a half-full bottle of Firewhiskey and two very expensive-looking glasses, "When I transferred to the Welsh dragon sanctuary and joined the Order, she and I reconnected."

Charlie took a seat, opened the Firewhiskey and poured two glasses, waving for Ron to join him at the table. Reluctantly at first, Ron moved to take a seat. He didn't know what to make of the situation with Charlie yet, and the idea of being alone with him made him more than a little uneasy.

"You don't work in Romania anymore?" Ron asked, nervously eyeing the glass of Firewhiskey that Charlie slid in front of him, "Since when?"

"Drink up," Charlie said matter-of-factly, tossing back his own shot of whiskey with practiced ease, "I got a Floo-call from Dad on the Thirty-First of August, at which point I told my boss to either arrange for a transfer or I was quitting. I managed to get an emergency Portkey the next day and I started working in Wales a few weeks later."

"Wait…the Thirty-First?" Ron's mind flashed to a disturbing memory…the final memory of the other Ron Weasley, "So…you _know_?"

"That you're not really my little brother?" Charlie replied, pouring himself another shot and downing it in one, "Yeah. Now drink up."

Ron numbly did what he was told, trying to emulate Charlie as best he could by knocking back the shot of Firewhiskey in one gulp. That was a big mistake. It seared his throat on the way down and made his whole body feel like it was on fire. He erupted into a coughing fit, tears leaking from the corners of his eyes.

"First time, huh?" Charlie laughed, slapping him on the back. Ron tried to answer him, but his voice came out as a choked gasp, so he settled for nodding instead. Charlie continued to chuckle, "It gets easier with time, little brother."

"Wh-why…you keep…calling me that?" Ron managed to croak out between gasping and heaving for breath. Firewhiskey may get easier to drink with time, but at the moment Ron had no intention of ever touching the stuff again.

"Why do I keep calling you my little brother?" Charlie asked, putting the top back on the whiskey and pushing the two crystal shot glasses aside, "Look…I know you're not _really_ him, and I know you're not going to be here forever…but I see this is as a second chance…a second chance to have some time with the little brother I took for granted."

Charlie began rolling the Firewhiskey bottle back-and-forth between his hands, watching the amber liquid sloshing around as if mesmerized.

"I spent so much time away from home…first at Hogwarts, and then in Romania…and even when I was home, because of the age difference, I didn't make much time for him. Maybe I thought that there was plenty of time…maybe if I knew he was only gonna be around for fifteen years I'd have made an effort. I'd like to think so, anyway."

Charlie tore his gaze away from the whiskey and locked his gaze with Ron.

"I know the others aren't as willing to accept you; that's their choice. I don't give a bloody fuck what world you're from…to me, you're Ron Weasley, and that makes you my baby brother. So, as long as you're here…if you want one…you've got yourself an older brother."

"Thanks, Charlie," Ron said quietly, overwhelmed by everything that had happened in the last hour. It was nice to know that not every Weasley despised him; it would certainly make the next two weeks a bit more bearable.

Charlie nodded and rose from his seat, grabbing the bottle and glasses off the table, "Now that we've got all that out of the way…I've got a lady waiting for me…and a Weasley _never_ leaves a lady waiting. Consider that a piece of brotherly advice," he said with a wink.

Ron snorted sarcastically. "Got any advice on what to do when you try and snog a girl and she calls out her boyfriend's name and runs off?"

Charlie pulled a rather unpleasant face, "Yeugh…that's rough, Ronnie. About all I can suggest for something like that is to pick yourself up, dust yourself off, and move on to the next bird…preferably one _without_ a boyfriend. 'Night, Ron."

With a wink and a smile – Firewhiskey firmly in hand – Charlie left the kitchen, leaving Ron alone with his thoughts and dirty dishes. He quickly went about washing and putting away his dishes, wanting to leave as little evidence as possible that he had been down in the kitchen sneaking food.

The entire time he was cleaning up, Ron's thoughts kept drifting to Hermione. She'd spent over two weeks avoiding him, but she broke up with Viktor…a fact she seemed to want him to be aware of, especially, judging by the way she looked at him when she told her parents.

Maybe there was a message in there meant solely for him. Was she telling him she wasn't mad about him trying to kiss her? Did she chuck Viktor because of him? She still seemed to want to be his friend…but could she want more? He'd have to ask Charlie some more questions about his situation over the next few days and see what he had to say.

He was grateful to Charlie for treating him like his brother, and to Ginny and the twins for having eventually accepted him as well; but as nice as it felt to have "siblings", hearing Molly and Arthur arguing…hearing the things they were saying about him…left Ron completely gutted. Luckily the Weasley parents were no longer in the dining room when Ron crept as quietly as he could back up the basement steps.

He didn't know if anyone was still up and about, and he wasn't sure how most of the house's occupants would react to seeing him wandering around, so he hurried up the stairs to the second landing, and Ron made it to his room – making sure to enter the _right _room this time – without encountering anyone else.

Of course, once he was _in_ his room was a different story entirely. There on his floor playing a game of Exploding Snap sat Ginny, Fred, and George all dressed in their pajamas and dressing gowns.

"There he is! I told you Kreacher didn't kidnap him, you prats," Ginny said, giving the twins the sort of un-amused look that Molly Weasley herself might be capable of, "Like I said, he was probably just in the loo."

"He was gone an awfully long time just to be taking a wee," Fred quipped causing Ginny to screw up her face in disgust, "Fall in, did you, Ronniekins?"

"Maybe he got lost," George suggested, "I got lost when I went to the loo…this ruddy place is huge. And I wouldn't trust that barmy house elf, Ginny…the way he keeps glaring at us and calling us _blood traitors_…"

"What're you doing here?" Ron asked closing the door behind him and crossing the room to stand over them

"What's it look like? We're playing cards, waiting for you," Ginny said, moving over to give him room, "Come on…we'll deal you in."

Ron couldn't think of anything else he had to do at the moment…other than brood on his current situation…so he grabbed some floor between Ginny and George.

"Sorry if we caught you by surprise, mate," Fred said as he tapped the deck of self-shuffling cards with his wand and started it shuffling, "We had to put a Silencing spell on the room because of all the noise we were making."

"No worries," Ron said, "I reckon that explains why I didn't hear you when I was out in the hall."

"Where _did_ you wander off to?" George asked as the game began with the deck flipping over cards one-after-the-other.

"The kitchen," Ron replied, trying to pay attention to the game as well as keep up with the conversation, "I tried sleeping, but I was starving…I needed _something_ to eat."

"Typical Ron… always thinking with his stomach," Ginny said teasingly, nudging him with her shoulder, and smiling brightly at him. Just then, the deck flipped over two identical cards and she quickly tapped them with her wand, yelling, "Snap!"

The pile of cards beneath Ginny's wand-tip exploded with a _bang_ sending bits of card everywhere. After a few moments, the deck resumed flipping over cards, increasing its speed a slight bit.

"Sorry about you going hungry, mate," Fred said, pulling a piece of exploded card out of his hair, "We tried to talk Mum into letting you come down and eat with us, but she went spare."

"She was scary," Ginny agreed, frowning, "I tried to sneak you some food wrapped up in a serviette, but she caught me. She actually threatened to punish me for trying to feed you."

"Mum actually forbade us from bringing you food from the kitchen," George said, "She was very clear on that point, wasn't she, Fred?"

"Absolutely," Fred nodded, "All too clear. No food _from the kitchen_."

"Don't worry about it," Ron said grimly, "I can understand where your mum is coming from…and I don't want you lot getting into trouble over me. These two weeks are going to be difficult enough."

"Tish tosh, Ronniekins," Fred said mischievously, "We followed Mum's instructions to the letter…didn't we, George?"

"We certainly did, Fred," George agreed, nodding, "No food…from the kitchen."

"But mother-dearest said nothing about food from _our room_," Fred said, reaching up to the bed and pulling the blanket aside to reveal a pile of Chocolate Frogs, Bertie Bott's beans, Fizzing Whizzbees, and other confectionary treats sitting in the middle of his bed.

"Consider yourself lucky, Ronniekins," George said with a grin, "We don't raid our stash for just _anybody_."

"That's for sure!" Ginny said, glowering at the twins, "You never offered _me_ any! Come on…share the wealth, you gits! Pass me a Sugar Quill!"

Fred and George laughed at their little sister, and soon the massive pile of sweets was divided into four equal piles amongst the teens as the game of Exploding Snap continued and the room quickly became littered with discarded sweets wrappers and exploded bits of playing cards.

The game lasted well into the night, and by the time Ginny, Fred and George had decided to call it a night – with Ginny actually having to walk upstairs to her room, half asleep, while the twins merely Apparated to theirs – the heavy feeling that had been weighing Ron down all night had been lifted and he was able to crawl into bed and go to sleep with a smile on his face thanks to the lightheartedness of the Weasley siblings.

* * *

Ron awoke the next morning to the sound of someone banging determinedly on his bedroom door. Groggy and uncoordinated after not getting nearly enough sleep, Ron literally tumbled out of bed, landing on the floor with a dull _thud_.

Once he'd managed to disentangle himself from the tattered blanket that had somehow gotten wrapped around his legs, Ron stumbled across the room and opened the door, still dressed in the clothes he'd worn the day before. He immediately stepped back and wished he'd grabbed his wand on the way over to answer the door as he stood face-to-face with Sirius Black.

"Oh…it's you," Ron said curtly, turning around and striding with purpose towards the bed…and the bedside table where his wand was sitting. He didn't expect Sirius to attack him again, but after last night, the animagus was _not_ one of Ron's favorite people…or favorite dogs, for that matter; he'd feel much better once he had his wand on him.

"Good morning to you, too," Sirius replied cynically, leaning up against the doorjamb nonchalantly. His remark merely garnered a grunt of acknowledgement from Ron as the redhead plopped down on his bed and picked up his wand. Undeterred, Black continued, "Dumbledore's here and he wants you to come to the drawing room. That's down on the –"

"First floor," Ron interrupted, "I remember. It took us forever to clean all the Doxys out of the bloody drapes…even with extra-strength Doxycide."

Sirius snorted at Ron's cursing, and the corners of his mouth turned up in a grin, "What were _you_ doing cleaning _my_ house?"

"Somebody had to get the place in decent-enough shape to serve as the Order's headquarters," Ron said. Keeping his wand at his side as he spoke to Sirius, Ron reached down and slipped his feet into his trainers, tying them quickly. "No way Mum was gonna have us living here all summer and _not_ clean the place up."

Sirius chuckled. "Molly _is_ a force to be reckoned with."

"Believe it," Ron agreed, nodding. He got up off the bed and made his way across the room in two long strides. He looked at Sirius as the older man effectively blocked the doorway and crossed his arms, tapping his foot impatiently, "Well? You gonna let me go see Dumbledore, or what?"

Sirius gave him a curious look before standing up straight and moving out of the doorway. "Don't you want to put on something you _didn't_ sleep in? I'm sure Dumbledore won't mind waiting a few more minutes."

"I'd rather just get this over with as soon as possible," Ron said, pushing past Sirius out into the hallway. Sirius followed him out, keeping pace with him.

"You don't seem as frightened of me as you did last night," Sirius commented, giving him a sidelong look, "It's the dog, right? Everyone's afraid of the dog. And then, when they find out that I'm an animagus and I _am_ the dog…well…that's when everyone starts pissing in their pants…"

"Actually, it was the dog…_attacking me_…again," Ron said snidely as he moved along the hallway towards the stairs, "I've known you were an animagus for the last two years."

"How'd you find out?" Sirius asked, sounding a bit ruffled, "I try to keep it a closely guarded secret…for obvious reasons."

"You mean because you're an unregistered and _illegal_ animagus whose arse would wind up back in Azkaban," Ron replied snarkily, stopping and shooting Sirius a sardonic smirk, "Those reasons?"

"You're a bit of a smart-ass, aren't you?" Sirius asked, looking at Ron appraisingly, "You remind me of me, when I was younger."

"I take it that's your idea of a compliment," Ron said dryly, though deep inside he appreciated being compared to Sirius…a bit. He'd always thought Sirius was pretty cool…especially after hearing some of his stories from his Marauders' days over the summer. Still, he wasn't exactly in the mood to be nice to Sirius after the reception he'd received the night before.

"Of course it's a compliment," Sirius said with a quick bark of laughter, "Who _wouldn't_ want to be like me?"

Ron couldn't help the amused snort that escaped him at Sirius' declaration causing the former Marauder to smile mischievously.

"You never did answer my question; how'd you know I was an animagus?"

"As the dog, you attacked me back in Third Year," Ron explained bitterly, "Dragging me into the tunnel beneath the Whomping Willow…breaking my leg in the process. Once you'd dragged me all the way to the Shrieking Shack, you transformed and stole my wand…because you wanted to kill my rat."

"So the cat didn't convince me to take Wormtail to the Ministry and clear my name?" Sirius asked, obviously intrigued by the story of the other dimension's Sirius Black, "I just killed Wormtail, instead? Well…it's no less than he deserved for what he'd done."

"Actually, he escaped," Ron said, frowning, "It was a huge mess…and I reckon I was lucky to get out of it with _just_ a broken leg. Now, when you say _'the cat'_…?"

"Big ginger tom…ran into him wandering around the school grounds," Sirius replied.

"_Crookshanks_?" Ron laughed, "Crookshanks convinced you to clear your name instead of killing Pettigrew…that's what happened? I always wondered why you decided to turn him in over here, while you seemed dead-set on killing him where I came from."

"I wanted to kill him," Sirius admitted, frowning as he reminisced about the night he finally became a truly free man…instead of just an escaped convict, "That cowardly little rat deserved it…but that cat wouldn't let me kill him. I was almost willing to kill the cat to get to the rat…but in the end, I understood what he was doing…why he wouldn't let me kill Wormtail."

"I knew you and Crookshanks were working together," Ron said, recalling the memories he'd seen, "But I had no idea the _cat_ was the brains of the operation." Ron began laughing at Sirius' expense.

"It's not _just_ a cat!" Sirius snapped, un-amused at being the butt of Ron's joke.

Ron stopped laughing immediately and took on a deathly serious face. "Don't tell me Crookshanks is an animagus, too! I've got to tell Hermione…she probably undresses in front of that pervy git!" He started to rush off, not sure where he was going or how he was going to get in touch with Hermione; just knowing that she had to be warned.

Sirius grabbed his arm and stopped him in his tracks. "Calm down. The cat's not an animagus…he's part kneazle. The kneazle half is what makes him so smart and such a good judge of character."

Ron nodded, acknowledging Sirius' words and calming down. He was glad Crookshanks wasn't an animagus in disguise; Hermione loved her cat dearly, and she would be devastated to learn that he wasn't the loyal, loving pet she'd cherished for the last two-and-a-half years. Ron knew all about that sort of betrayal, and it was a feeling he'd prefer to see Hermione spared of.

Ron and Sirius resumed their trek towards the stairs, passing the room Ron had mistakenly entered last night. He motioned towards the door with his head as they passed.

"How's Professor Lupin this morning?"

"A little groggy, but he'll be fine after breakfast," Sirius said, "You really were lucky he'd taken his Wolfsbane potion last night; if he hadn't…"

"Yeah, I've seen what happens when he doesn't take it," Ron said, nodding, "Bloody terrifying."

"Then I trust you won't make the same mistake you made last night," Sirius said, raising his eyebrows as if in a challenge as they began descending the stairs.

"Not likely," Ron agreed. If there was a chance of running afoul of an angry animagus, or worse, an angry werewolf, Ron would make a point to stay as far away from that room as possible. They lapsed into silence as they made their way down to the first floor landing and began moving along the hall towards the drawing room and Dumbledore.

"One thing I don't understand," Ron said, breaking the silence, "You and Professor Lupin looked awfully cozy when I walked in on you last night…but when he turned into a werewolf two years ago, you transformed and the two of you got into one Hell of a dogfight."

"When the wolf is upon him, Remus likes to have Padfoot around as a calming influence…but if he was already on the hunt for blood, there would have been little I could do," Sirius explained, "When he takes his potion…as he had last night…Remus is weak and docile during the wolf cycle, so Padfoot stands guard for him."

"You're his watchdog," Ron said, snickering.

Sirius narrowed his eyes and growl at him. "I think I liked you better when you were cowering at the very sight of me."

They reached the drawing room and entered, finding Dumbledore standing alone by the fireplace, seemingly lost in thought. He looked up when Ron and Sirius entered and smiled at them…though the smile looked forced.

"Ah, Ronald…how are you finding your stay in the most noble and ancient house of Black?"

"I don't understand why I couldn't have stayed at Hogwarts," Ron replied, not even bothering to hide his unhappiness, "At least there I felt somewhat welcome."

Dumbledore shot a quick look to Sirius who merely shrugged.

"Ronald," Dumbledore began, turning his attention back to Ron, "Christmas is a time for family…and since the rest of the Weasley children attending Hogwarts were headed home for the holidays, it would look rather suspicious if you stayed behind. And since I will be traveling until at least the New Year, I felt you might be safer someplace where an eye could be kept on you."

"You honestly don't think I would've been safe at Hogwarts?" Ron asked unbelievingly. Hogwarts was, supposedly the safest place in all of Britain…although considering how many times Ron had almost been killed at Hogwarts, that title might actually be undeserved.

"Ronald, I'm afraid there have been some recent developments that cause me to believe Hogwarts may no longer be safe for _anyone_," Dumbledore said gravely.

"What happened?" Ron asked anxiously, as any number of horrible possibilities ran through his mind, all of them revolving around Harry Potter and You-Know-Who.

"Three days ago, Azkaban was attacked," Dumbledore revealed. Ron watched Sirius visibly stiffen at the mention of the prison where he spent a dozen years of his life. "There was a massive breakout that was aided by the prison's own guardians. It would appear that the Dementors have joined Voldemort."

"Why are we only hearing about this now…why didn't we hear about this _three days ago_?" Sirius growled, balling his fists up and trembling with rage.

"My source inside the Ministry informed me that the attack is being covered up until a full investigation can be completed," Dumbledore replied tiredly, "Only the Minister and the departments directly involved even know about this."

"Your source inside the Ministry," Sirius laughed bitterly, "What about your _source inside the Death Eaters_? Where was _Snivellus_ during all this…licking Voldemort's boots or tucked safely inside Hogwarts, playing with his chemistry set?"

"Sirius, calm yourself," Dumbledore said sternly, "We shall hear from Severus during the meeting…until then –"

"Who escaped?" Sirius cut across Dumbledore, speaking in an emotionless voice that Ron never would have equated with him; Sirius _always_ seemed emotional…much like himself…whether it was anger or happiness or what-have-you, he was always emotionally expressive…but now, he seemed deadened as he waited to learn which of You-Know-Who's lunatic minions had been set free.

"Some twenty of Voldemort's faithful followers have been freed," Dumbledore answered, giving Sirius a look that Ron couldn't place, "The Lestranges were among them."

"Bellatrix," Sirius spat, as if the name itself was poison.

"As well as her husband and brother-in-law, and nearly a dozen-and-a-half more of Voldemort's most dangerous Death Eaters," Dumbledore confirmed, nodding.

"So, what do we do about it?" Ron asked, finally inserting himself into the conversation. He'd been content to allow Sirius and Dumbledore to discuss the matter as though he weren't in the room, but now he was tired of standing around listening…he wanted to know what the next course of action was and he wanted to know now. If he was lucky, it would be something that would get him out of spending two weeks trapped here.

"The Order will be discussing the matter at our meeting later this morning," Dumbledore said, seeming to be addressing both Ron and Sirius, "Until then, there is another matter."

"Something else happened?" Ron asked, wondering just how much bad news the old wizard had brought with him.

"I'm afraid so," Dumbledore said, nodding, "During my recent travels, I was troubled to learn that Vernon and Petunia Dursley, and their son Dudley, have been killed."

"Harry's family?" Ron replied, shocked. He didn't particularly care for the Dursleys, since they were such horrible people, but the death of the entire family had to mean something…and probably not something good.

"Those horrible Muggles you left my godson with? Good riddance," Sirius' reply was full of bitterness and disgust, "It's because of the way they raised him that Harry was so willing to fall in with the Malfoys! If I had my way –"

"Sirius, enough!" Dumbledore snapped, cutting across Sirius and shutting him up, "I am well aware of your feelings concerning the Dursleys, and while I do appreciate those feelings, this is not the time or place to discuss them; there is a larger matter at hand here."

"What happened to them, Professor?" Ron asked, trying not to feel awkward at the obvious tension in the room.

"It is unclear, though I am fairly certain they were killed by magic," Dumbledore answered Ron, his tone much more conciliatory than when he spoke to Sirius, "Judging by the state of their remains, they have been dead for months…possibly since the summer. Also, judging by the Muggle-repelling charms and protective wards surrounding the house, I believe it is safe to say that whoever killed them did not want the Dursleys to be found for quite some time."

"Professor…you don't think Harry did it, do you?" Ron asked, though the cold shiver that ran down his spine told him he probably already knew the answer.

"That's not possible!" Sirius roared, turning to angrily face down Ron, looking as if he wanted to hit the redhead for his blasphemous words, "He's incapable of such a thing!"

"He's done it before!" Ron snapped, refusing to back down from the enraged Marauder, "Otherwise, I wouldn't bloody well _be here_, now would I?"

Sirius Black was seething with anger, and Ron could tell that he wanted to take the anger out on him for having the gall to suggest that his godson could be a murderer. Ron didn't _like_ saying that about Harry…didn't like _thinking it_ about him…but the fact of the matter was that Harry Potter _was_ capable of murder…and if he could kill this world's Ron Weasley, what's to stop him from killing the relatives who locked him in a broom cupboard for the first eleven years of his life?

"I believe that, yes, it was most likely Mr. Potter who killed the Dursleys," Dumbledore sighed, "After he admitted to killing this world's Ronald Weasley, I don't think there is anything that Mr. Potter is incapable of."

"It's not his fault, though," Ron said, turning away from Sirius and looking back at Dumbledore, "He's being controlled somehow…I know he is. Even if it's not the diary like we thought, You-Know-Who has done _something_ to him. Maybe he's been Imperiused!"

"That is a distinct possibility, Ronald," Dumbledore acknowledged, "However, until such time as we are able to confirm that Voldemort is somehow controlling him, then we must err on the side of caution. Mr. Potter is still dangerous."

"We have to warn Hermione," Ron said as the sudden image of Harry flanked by dozens of hooded Death Eaters and a hundred Dementors converging on the Grangers' Muggle home flashed across his mind, "If You-Know-Who's doing something big like busting his people out of Azkaban, then he must be planning something equally big…Hermione won't be safe out there in the Muggle world…we can't let what happened to the Dursleys happen to her and her parents!"

"Miss Granger and her parents are under constant guard," Dumbledore reminded Ron.

"By what…a couple of Order members?" Ron asked his tone slightly biting, "You-Know-Who's building an army! And you said yourself that Harry might try to get revenge on Hermione and I; if he can't get to me, she's the next best thing! Plus, she's a Muggle-born…and they're _always_ high on You-Know-Who's hit list!"

"You'd best hope Bellatrix doesn't get hold of your friend," Sirius said in a grave voice, "She likes to play with her food before she eats it. Your friend will be begging for death by the time she's done."

"Professor…!" Ron shouted, looking frantically at the schoolmaster, his concern for Hermione taking precedence over everything.

"Sirius…" Dumbledore said in a scolding tone, shaking his head, "Now is not the time to make matters worse."

"Professor, you can't leave Hermione and her parents out there to fend for themselves!" Ron exclaimed, "Hermione's a brilliant witch, but if Harry and You-Know-Who come looking for her, she won't stand a chance!"

"What would you have me do, Ronald?" Dumbledore sighed wearily.

"I don't know…take them someplace safe…you could bring them here!" Ron said, his face brightening at the prospect of seeing Hermione again _and_ making sure she and her parents were safe at the same time, "This place is unplottable, and with so many Order members coming and going all the time, it's probably the safest place there is right now."

Dumbledore didn't seem as thrilled with the idea as Ron, however. "Ronald, by bringing the Grangers here, you risk the truth of your origins being exposed; you do realize that…don't you? I only mention this because you had made a point of _not_ telling Miss Granger where you were from when you told her the details of your mission during your stay in the hospital wing."

"If the choice is between Hermione possibly finding out where I'm from, and Hermione dying…I'll choose her finding out any day," Ron said with conviction.

"Very well, Ronald, I'll make the arrangements," Dumbledore said nodding. He then turned to Sirius, arching an eyebrow as he asked, "As long as it agreeable with the lord of the house of Black."

"Fine by me," Sirius said, waving a hand dismissively, "There's plenty of room on the second floor."

"I'll just be off, then," Dumbledore said as he turned and left the drawing room, followed shortly by Sirius, leaving Ron alone with his thoughts.

You-Know-Who was up to something big, and Harry was no doubt right in the thick of it. With Dementors and Death Eaters and who knows what else on his side, Ron couldn't help wondering just how long it would be before He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named finally showed his face and tried to do what he had failed to do…what Harry had stopped him from doing…all those years ago. How long before he tried to take over the Wizarding world once and for all?


	27. Reflection of Light inthe House of Black

**Author' Notes****: **Real life can be a monster. Even when you think nothing is really happening, it can still gobble up your free time and leave you little chance to do the things you want to do.

Despite what people might think, I do have a life away from writing fanfiction, and over the last two months, it has gotten the better of me. I haven't had the kind of time I need to sit down and write, and as a result this chapter took forever to get out.

Adding insult to injury, my beta has also been extremely busy, so while the chapter was done a week ago, it wasn't ready to go out until tonight.

I'm not going to lie; I'm not happy with this chapter. I know I say that a lot, but with this one…I just didn't have the time to sit down and concentrate on it, so I would write in spurts; whenever I would get five or ten free minutes I'd sit and bang out a little bit for the chapter…and I think the work suffered because of it. So, if any of you dislike this chapter, well, I can't say as I blame you.

You've waited long enough, and I really want to let you get down to reading, but before you do I want to let you in on a little health and safety tip. Always where a shirt while boiling water…even on the hottest day of the summer…because you never know when you're going to have a Jack Tripperesque* accident and wind up wearing that boiling water. And let me tell you…second degree burns are neither attractive nor painless. And if you happen to be the type of person who can only get comfortable and sleep on your stomach, having second degree burns on your abdomen and lower torso make it pretty much impossible to get any sleep.

**Thanks****:** An amazing thing has happened. In the two months since I last posted, more than 100 new reviews were posted for this story…many of them from new readers who took the time to review every chapter. As a result, even though I haven't posted a damn thing since July, the number of reviews this story has garnered shot up from 700 to 818! That's incredible, and I really, really want to thank those new readers as well as all of my older readers for each and every one of those 800+ reviews.

**More Thanks****:** As usual, I want to thank my beta, CutewithAcapital-Q for her tireless efforts in helping me to try to make my writing better. I want to thank her even more this time around because I know she was extremely busy, and she still took the time out to help me. You're amazing, Cutie. Thanks a bunch!

**Disclaimer****:** Now for the final bit of business before I let you guys read this chapter. All the HP stuff belongs to JKR. I know it…you know it…everybody knows it.

*******– ****Jack Tripperesque****:** For anyone not familiar with the TV show "Three's Company", Jack Tripper was the character played by John Ritter who was well known for his prat falls and clumsy accidents. He was an aspiring chef on the show, so many of those prat falls happened in the kitchen.

*sigh* Explaining a joke is like dissecting a frog. You can do it, but you tend to kill it in the process.

* * *

_**MIRROR, MIRROR**_

**Chapter 27 – "Reflections of Light in the House of Black"**

With Dumbledore and Sirius gone, Ron returned to his bedroom. He could smell the heady aroma of one of Molly Weasley's signature breakfasts wafting its way up from the basement kitchen, and he knew it was only a matter of time before the gloomy house became lively with a host of rambunctious Weasleys…and he wanted to make sure he was out of their way.

Yes, four-out-of-six Weasley siblings approved of him, but he didn't know about the other two brothers; he didn't know if Bill and Percy were even staying at Grimmauld Place, but he didn't want to take the chance. Plus, he knew for certain that Molly and Arthur didn't want him around, so in the interests of making things easier for everybody involved, he decided to keep to himself as much as possible.

Besides, thanks to him, as crowded as Sirius' house currently was, it was about to get even more crowded. Ron had no idea whether or not Dumbledore had informed the Weasleys that Hermione and her parents would be arriving soon, but regardless of whether they knew the Grangers were coming or not, having a bunch of strangers in the same house for Christmas was going to be a huge imposition on the Weasleys.

Still, having Hermione around would be nice. He'd become used to being able to spend Christmas with Hermione, having done so since he was twelve. Yes, seeing his family for the holidays was nice, but being able to spend time with Hermione…and Harry…was something else…something special; even if those Christmases spent with Hermione and Harry at Hogwarts were anything but peaceful, what with sneaking around looking for Nicholas Flamel, sneaking around looking for the Heir of Slytherin, not talking to Hermione because she'd gotten Harry's new Firebolt taken away, and, of course, the Yule Ball.

No, Christmas had not been peaceful for Ron since he'd gone off to Hogwarts, and he wondered, with You-Know-Who gathering his army of Azkaban escapees and Dementors with Harry right by his side, if he would ever get to see a peaceful Christmas ever again.

Ron was startled out of his thoughts by the resounding _crack_ of Apparition coming from the foot of his bed. He pulled his wand just in time to see Kreacher hobbling towards him, hunchbacked and ancient-looking, carrying a tray laden with breakfast foods. Suddenly, the conversation he'd overheard last night between Molly and Arthur came back to him.

_"He can take his meals in his room and that horrible house elf can bring them to him."_

Ron lowered his wand and sighed. At least he wasn't going to go hungry.

"Kreacher has brought your breakfast, young master," Kreacher said in a voice reminiscent of a bullfrog. He bowed low as he presented the tray to Ron, continuing to speak as though he didn't know or care that Ron could hear him. "Perhaps it will choke and there will be one less blood traitor stinking up poor Mistress' house."

"Shut it, you," Ron said, snatching the tray of food from Kreacher and depositing it on the scarred old desk in the corner, "I'm in no mood to deal with you, you dozy little blighter."

"Kreacher said nothing, young master," Kreacher replied, bowing low as he backed away from Ron, "Not even the fat blood traitor cow wants to deal with this one. Perhaps someone will smother it in its sleep."

"Oi!" Ron shouted, aiming his wand at the decrepit old house elf. He was reminded of a time over the summer when he woke up in the middle of the night to find Kreacher prowling around his room. "I'd better not catch you in here at night…understand?"

"Of course, young master; Kreacher wouldn't think of it," the house elf croaked, "Poor Kreacher cannot stomach the smell of these blood traitors and abominations defiling Mistress' house."

"Just get out," Ron said finally. He kept his wand trained on the elf until, with an obnoxiously loud _crack_, Kreacher disappeared from his room. "Bloody mental little wretch."

Though his appetite had been somewhat diminished by having to deal with Kreacher and the insults and veiled threats spewing from his froglike mouth, it didn't vanish completely; so Ron sat at the old desk and began tucking into the food the elf had brought, trying not to dwell on the fact that he was only forced to deal with Kreacher because he wasn't welcome at the breakfast table with the rest of the occupants of the house.

Ron's forced absence at mealtime was going to become very hard for him to explain once Hermione and her parents showed up; not to mention the way Molly very obviously despised him. The Weasley family was a notoriously close family, and Molly was well-known for being loving and protective of her children, so it wasn't going to take a genius of Hermione's calibre to see that something was clearly wrong with the Weasleys and that Ron was somehow at the center of it.

Even though some of the Weasleys accepted him, Ron still felt like an outcast, and he couldn't help wondering if that was exactly how his brother Percy felt back on the world he'd come from.

"At least that prat deserves it," he muttered to himself, thinking back to the way Percy had insulted their father and broke their mother's heart.

Of course, Percy wasn't an outcast here. According to the twins, Percy was still working in the Department of International Magical Cooperation and spent a great deal of time out of the country, assisting in the development of relations with Wizarding governments in other countries. His star hadn't risen as far and as fast as it had back on that other world, but then, he also wasn't being duped into spying on his own family and, through them, Dumbledore…so Percy had that going for him.

Ron sighed as he finished his breakfast, leaving the tray of empty dishes sit on the old desk as he got up and moved about the room. Grimmauld Place wasn't as grim as he'd remembered it, which was a good thing. The place was a veritable deathtrap when he and his family and Hermione had gone about cleaning it up over the summer.

_"Over there,"_ Ron thought, trying to keep the two universes straight. It was difficult, sometimes, as the two worlds seemed to blur together sometimes in his mind. _"Over there I'm considered worthless; here I'm just hated."_

Flopping down on the bed, Ron glanced at the clock on his bed-stand. He didn't know when Hermione and her parents would be arriving, but as he looked at the wrinkled clothes he'd worn home from Hogwarts and slept in last night, he realized that he definitely needed a shower and a change of clothes before they arrived.

* * *

An hour later, Ron had showered and shaved and did his best to make his hair look presentable – though he would deny it if anyone asked him about it. He had put on a set of clean clothes and was just leaving his room to see if Dumbledore had returned yet, when suddenly…

"RON!"

Ron turned his head at the sound of his name being shrieked and was immediately blinded as his vision was completely obscured by a large quantity of very bushy brunette hair. It took him a second to realize that he wasn't being attacked by some creature that had been lurking in the shadows of Grimmauld Place, but by Hermione. She had thrown herself onto him in a hug that nearly knocked him flat.

"RON! Oh, Ron, you're here! I was so worried! Dumbledore showed up as we were finishing our packing for our ski holiday and told us we were in danger…there's been a breakout at Azkaban and there are Death Eaters and Dementors on the loose! I was so scared because he didn't tell me that you were safe at first and when I asked him if he was going to get you and your family, too, he said you had been the one to send him to find us! He said it was all your idea because you were sure we'd be targets because of what we did in the Chamber of Secrets and…Ron! Can you believe the Dementors are working for You-Know-Who now? Those horrible creatures…remember what it was like with them around Hogwarts in Third Year…how dreadful and cold it felt and…oh, I'm just so relieved to see you're alright! But my parents, they're so confused by all this and Dumbledore said there wasn't time to explain everything to them until we got here…and I don't even know where _here_ is…I know it's the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix, but the building just sort of _appeared_ out of nowhere…I mean, I'd read about that sort of thing in a book on protective magic but –"

"Breathe, Hermione," Ron said, grinning as he pulled back slightly from the hug and looked down into her very flushed face. The last time he had been this close to her, they had almost kissed; Ron began blushing heavily at the memory and looked away, flustered.

Hermione must have missed the look of embarrassment on Ron's face because she was still beaming up at him happily as she let go of him and stepped back. Before either of them could say another word, something furry brushed past their legs and they turned just in time to see Crookshanks' orange bottle-brush tail disappearing into Ron's bedroom.

Chuckling, Ron was about to tease Hermione about her cat making itself at home in his bedroom when a voice coming from the direction of the stairs made him freeze.

"Well, isn't _this_ cozy!"

He looked up as Hermione whirled around, her mad mane of hair smacking him in the face and threatening to make him sneeze as it tickled his nose. Ron pushed the hair out of the way and saw Sirius leaning against the banister of the stairs smirking at them. It was he that had spoken, but next to him stood an equally smirking Lupin, Tonks, and Charlie.

There was a pile of expensive-looking, matching luggage and a familiar-looking Hogwarts trunk sitting on the floor in front of them, and next to it all stood Hermione's parents. Ron paled a bit at the sight of her parents and took half a step back from their daughter. Mrs. Granger was smiling knowingly at the scene before her, but Mr. Granger seemed to have the makings of a scowl forming on his lips.

"Mum, Dad…you remember Ron," Hermione said, moving towards her parents, fidgeting nervously with her fingers.

"Of course we do, Hermione…we only just met him last night," Mrs. Granger reminded her daughter, "You honestly didn't expect us to forget about your friend _that quickly_, did you?"

"We remember him, Hermione," Mr. Granger said, narrowing his eyes at Ron, "You just didn't tell us the two of you were so _close_."

Ron swallowed visibly, glad of two things: that Mr. Granger wasn't a wizard able to cast _Avada Cadavra_, and that looks could not, in fact kill…because if either of those two things _weren't_ true, Ron was fairly certain he'd be dead where he stood.

"Why don't I show you where you'll be staying," Remus Lupin said to the Grangers, breaking the awkward silence before it could stretch on any longer than a couple of seconds. The haggard-looking werewolf began walking down the hall, motioning for the two Muggle dentists to follow him, "It's just down this way."

"Nice seeing you again, Ron," Mrs. Granger said politely as she passed him.

"Yes, hopefully we'll get a chance to _talk_ very soon," Mr. Granger said pointedly before his wife nudged him with her elbow and grabbed his arm, dragging him along with her.

"Maybe you want to help me with the luggage, Ron," Charlie said as he used his wand to levitate the mass of suitcases in front of him, leaving the trunk sitting on the floor for Ron to handle.

"Err…sure," Ron nodded, walking over towards the older Weasley and picking up Hermione's school trunk. It was heavy, no doubt laden down with books, and Ron had to strain to lift it.

"Don't give yourself a hernia, little brother," Charlie joked as they began moving the Grangers' luggage down the hall, following Remus as he led them to their bedroom. As they walked, Charlie leaned in and lowered his voice so only Ron could hear, "Is that the girl you told me about…the one with the boyfriend?" Charlie asked, motioning towards Hermione with his head.

Ron nodded, keeping his voice low as well. "Yeah…but she's chucked her boyfriend."

"Really?" Charlie replied, looking lost in thought, "Hmm…"

"What?" Ron asked, curious as to what his 'brother' was thinking.

"Nothing," the older Weasley replied, shaking his head, "She's cute…and she likes you, too."

"You think?" Ron wanted to make sure it wasn't just his imagination; that it seemed to other people that Hermione liked him just as he liked her.

Charlie nodded in response before asking a question that made Ron's stomach drop. "Does she know _the truth_…where you're from and all that?"

"No," Ron said, frowning, "She knows what I'm supposed to be doing, but not…y'know…"

"She doesn't know you'll be leaving," Charlie said, filling in the blanks, "You should tell her. If you're going to try and start something with her, she deserves to know the truth."

"I know," Ron replied, tight-lipped and serious-looking.

He knew that bringing Hermione here would mean she might find out the truth, since everyone else in the house already knew and the Weasleys tended to talk without thinking from time-to-time. They were an emotional bunch, and so often didn't consider the consequences of their words before speaking. It was a family trait.

"This is your room, Doctors Granger," Remus Lupin was saying as Ron and Charlie caught up with the luggage, "And Hermione, you can stay in the room next door…unless you'd prefer to share with Ginny up on the third floor."

"I'll stay down here, if it's all the same, Professor," Hermione said, looking around her a bit nervously, "I'm sure my parents want me nearby."

"Yes, we want to be able to keep a close eye on her," Mr. Granger said, looking straight at Ron as he said it. He then turned to address Remus, "Until we get settled in, of course. This is all very new and confusing for us…you understand."

"Of course," Lupin said, nodding before he turned to the two redheads in the hall, "Charlie, Ron, why don't you put the Grangers' luggage in their rooms."

"Sure thing, Lupin," Charlie nodded, moving into Mr. and Mrs. Granger's room, levitating their luggage in front of him.

Ron nodded towards his former DADA professor and began hauling Hermione's trunk into her room, being careful not to scuff the sides against the doorframe as he struggled to get it through.

"I'll have some tea sent up," Remus continued, once again addressing the Grangers, "And after lunch, someone will give you a tour of the house and answer any of the questions that you no doubt have about what is going on. For now, though, I have a meeting I must attend. If you need anything, I'm sure Ron would be more than happy to help you."

Ron placed Hermione's book-laden Hogwarts trunk at the foot of the bed in her newly assigned room, sighing with relief at finally being divested of the heavy load. He looked up and saw Hermione following him into the room, looking around with scrutiny at the place she'd be spending the next two weeks.

"Thank you for carrying my trunk, Ron," she said, turning her attention to him and smiling at him.

"No worries, Hermione," he replied, wiping his hands, which were suddenly very sweaty, on the legs of his trousers, "I forgot how heavy your trunk can be."

Hermione gave him a curious look. "When have you ever carried my trunk before?"

Images of the last two summers spent together at the Burrow and here at Order headquarters flashed through Ron's brain, only to be tempered by the strange looks he was receiving from the girl standing in front of him.

"Err…it's just…I figured with all the _books_ you probably take with you, your trunk _must_ be heavy."

She nodded, as if accepting his explanation. If she didn't believe him, she certainly didn't press him about it. Hermione began looking around the room again, nervously fidgeting with her fingers. Ron, too, was clearly nervous, and shoved his hands into his trouser pockets to prevent himself from fidgeting the way Hermione was.

The sudden shock of seeing each other again…of being able to see for themselves that the other was safe…had worn off, and now they were back to being uncomfortable around each other; much as they had been the night before at King's Cross.

"This house is a bit…unusual," Hermione said diplomatically as she allowed her eyes to travel over the room's décor…the room's very _Slytherin_ décor.

"It's downright creepy is what it is," Ron replied, "Every time I go to open a door, I'm half-afraid the bloody doorknob is going to bite me."

Hermione laughed nervously, not even bothering to scold him for his language. Her laughter faded and soon the room was cloaked in an uncomfortable silence that seemed to last for ages. Ron gazed at the floor, while Hermione shifted her gaze from walls to ceiling to anything in the room that wasn't Ron. The silence seemed to be crushing them where they stood.

"Ron, we need to talk about the hospital wing…"

"Hermione, there's something I need to tell you…"

Both desperate to end the deafening silence, they had spoken at exactly the same time, their words mashing together in an unintelligible cacophony. Blushing and laughing nervously, they did it again.

"You go first…"

"Go 'head…"

Before the two nervous teens could open their mouths and do it a third time, the sound of throat being cleared drew their attention to Mr. Granger standing in the doorway holding a suitcase.

"This is yours, Poppet," Hermione's father said, entering the room and setting the piece of luggage down on her bed, "That Charlie bloke brought it to our room by mistake." Even though he spoke to Hermione, his eyes were fixed on Ron.

"Oh…thanks, Dad," Hermione replied, nervously looking back-and-forth between her father and Ron.

As awkward and uncomfortable as things had felt for Ron when it was just him and Hermione in the room, the feeling multiplied a thousand-fold the moment her father entered. The way Mr. Granger was looking at him had Ron so nervous that he wished he knew how to Apparate so he could just disappear. The next words out of Mr. Granger's mouth had Ron's stomach plummeting down into his shoes.

"Hermione, why don't you go help your mother unpack, while I have a chat with Ron."

"Dad…" Hermione gave her father a look that said she knew what he was up to and didn't like it one bit.

"I just want to talk to your friend, Poppet," John Granger assured his daughter, "I'll be nice. Now, go help your mother."

Hermione gave Ron an apologetic look before she left the room. When his daughter was gone, Mr. Granger moved over and shut the door behind her. The closing of the door made the softest of _clicks_, but to Ron it sounded like thunder as he found himself alone with Hermione's father.

"Mr. Granger…" Ron began, not sure what he was going to say, but wanting to say something in his own defense. It was obvious that her father did not like the way Hermione hugged him when she saw him earlier, and Ron was sure he was about to hear about it.

"Relax, Ron," Mr. Granger said calmly, "I'm not going to hurt you. I just want to talk. Have a seat."

Mr. Granger motioned towards the bed and Ron reluctantly sat down. Hermione's father then pulled the desk chair over from the corner and sat down on it in front of Ron. He locked gazes with Ron and after several moments, Ron looked away, uncomfortable with the scrutiny. Finally John Granger cleared his throat and began speaking again.

"I couldn't help noticing how fond Hermione is of you. When we came up those steps and she caught sight of you…well…I'd never seen her smile so brightly. And let's not forget that hug."

Ron could already feel his ears turning the color of the jumpers his mother made for him every Christmas. Hermione had nearly knocked him off his feet when she hugged him, and he was definitely not used to that level of physical affection from Hermione. It had been very pleasing to Ron to be on the receiving end of Hermione's flying tackle-hug, but having to discuss it with her father would be torture. He didn't know if he was supposed to provide some sort of explanation or other commentary, so Ron just sat there, blushing.

"I've only ever seen Hermione hug one man that way before, Ron, and that man was me," Mr. Granger continued, obviously not expecting Ron to say anything…at least not yet, "That's the same sort of hug I'd get when I came home from a week-long dental conference. I've never seen her do that with anyone else. She certainly didn't hug Viktor that way when he came to visit…and she hadn't seen him in over a month."

Ron's jaw clenched at the mention of Viktor Krum. He hated that the Bulgarian had gone to visit Hermione over the summer, but he knew it could've been worse…_she_ could've gone to visit _him_ in Bulgaria, and there's no telling what might've happened, then.

"So, tell me, Ron," Mr. Granger went on, seemingly oblivious to the change in Ron's demeanor brought on by the mention of Hermione's ex-boyfriend, "How is that you received the type of hug it took her father a week-long absence to get, and that her boyfriend _never_ got, after only being away from her for a little more than twelve hours?"

"Err…" Ron had no idea how to answer that question, since he had no idea _what_ he'd done. Yes, he and Hermione were friends, and yes, they had almost kissed, but weeks had passed since that awkward moment in the hospital wing without Hermione speaking so much as a single word to him. Until he had a chance to actually sit down and talk to Hermione, there was no way for Ron to know what exactly was going on.

"Let's put a pin in that one for a bit; we'll come back to it," John Granger said after Ron failed to answer him, "Up until last night, Ron, Mrs. Granger and I didn't even know you existed; Hermione had never mentioned you before. On the drive home last night, however, she wouldn't _stop_ talking about you. Apparently, you've made quite an impression on my daughter."

"She's my best friend, sir," Ron said, blushing.

"But there's more to it, judging by that hug," John replied, arching an eyebrow at Ron, "Last night, when I suggested that Hermione try dating someone like you, I had no idea that she already had a similar idea in mind."

"We're _not_ dating, Mr. Granger," Ron said, shaking his head vehemently, "I didn't even know she and Krum had broken up until last night."

"But you were pleased to hear that they had, yes? Just as I was," John said, giving Ron an appraising look, "I wonder why that is."

"I hate that ruddy git," Ron blurted out before he even had a chance to think, "He didn't deserve Hermione."

"I couldn't agree more," Mr. Granger said, nodding, "Of course, I'm biased. She's my little girl…my _only_ little girl…and I'd hate to see her with someone who didn't treat her the way she deserves to be treated."

Ron nodded, looking down at his feet. He was notorious for being thick about many things, especially where girls were concerned, but Ron was fairly certain he was receiving Mr. Granger's message loud and clear.

"Hermione is a smart girl," John continued, "But even smart girls make bad choices. Viktor was one of those choices. From the moment he set foot in our home last summer, I could tell that he did not have Hermione's best interests at heart. I don't want my daughter dating someone like that."

"I understand, sir," Ron said, nodding and looking down at his feet.

"I'd have to be blind not to see that the two of you care for each other, and I'd have to be stupid to believe that _nothing_ was going to happen between you. Let me assure you, Ron, that I am neither blind _nor_ stupid."

"No, sir, I never said –"

"Something tells me that you _do_ have Hermione's best interests at heart, Ron; but know this: I've got my eye on you, Ron…I'll be watching," Mr. Granger said with a very serious look in his eye.

"Yes, sir," Ron said, swallowing nervously.

"Good. Now that I'm done intimidating the new boy in Hermione's life…why don't you explain to me why my family and I are here inside a haunted house that appeared out of thin air, instead of at home getting ready for our ski holiday."

Before he could respond, a sudden shriek of terror from the bedroom next door had Ron and Mr. Granger on their feet and out the door in an instant. Ron was the first one through the door into the Grangers' bedroom, wand drawn and on the lookout for danger.

Hermione and Mrs. Granger were huddled together on the bed in fear, hugging each other tightly. Their frightened gazes where locked on some horror across the room; a horror by the name of Kreacher who was currently setting a tea service and a plate of scones on a disused vanity table.

"What is going on in here?" Mr. Granger bellowed as he burst through the door directly behind Ron.

"That _thing_ just appeared out of nowhere!" Mrs. Granger cried, her voice laced with fear.

"What is it?" Hermione asked, looking at Ron.

Ron sighed, putting away his wand. "Kreacher," he replied, looking at Hermione, "He's the Black family's house elf."

"_That's_ a house elf?" Hermione responded, looking back-and-forth between Ron and Kreacher.

"Hermione…in all the time you've been at Hogwarts, you mean you've never seen a house elf before?"

She shook her head quickly. "No, when would I have?"

Ron nodded in understanding. She _wouldn't_ have seen a house elf before. This Hermione hadn't met Dobby; she hadn't been to the World Cup to see Barty Crouch mistreat his house elf, Winky. She certainly wasn't the type to sneak down to the kitchens after curfew to grab a midnight snack from the overly helpful house elves there. She wasn't the staunch supporter for house elf rights who had begun the Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare. _This_ was her first experience with a house elf…what a shame that it had to be with Kreacher.

"What are you doing here, Kreacher?" Ron asked the wrinkled little elf. He couldn't stand the little wretch, and he didn't want the Grangers to have to be a party to the elf's hateful mutterings.

"Master told Kreacher to bring tea for the _new visitors_," Kreacher croaked, hobbling away from the vanity and bowing in front of Ron. As per usual, the house elf continued to speak as though he didn't think anyone else could hear him. "First it was abominations and blood traitors, and now this Muggle filth. Oh, what disgrace has befallen poor Mistress' house!"

"Quiet, you little bast—"

"RON!"

Ron looked over his shoulder to see Hermione looking cross at him. She was huddled together with her mother on the bed, while her father stood next to it, his arms wrapped tightly around both of them, as if to keep them safe from Kreacher.

"Sorry, Hermione," he at least had the good sense to look contrite as she scolded him for his language. He then turned his attention back to Kreacher, "You just get out of here, Kreacher…and next time, use the door."

"Of course, young master," Kreacher said before disappearing with a loud _crack_ that had all three Grangers jumping.

"I never knew house elves looked like _that_," Hermione said, disengaging herself from her parents and getting off the bed, moving to stand next to Ron, "Were those house elf heads mounted on the wall by the stairs, then?"

"Kreacher's ancestors," Ron said, nodding, "The nutter hopes to join them someday."

"How horrible," Mrs. Granger said, blanching visibly.

"And I thought the goblins at that bank were strange," Mr. Granger added.

"They're not all like Kreacher," Ron said, "Most are nice and really helpful; the house elves down in the Hogwarts kitchens go out of their way to get you whatever you need."

"And just _what_ are you doing sneaking down to the kitchens, Ronald?" Hermione asked sharply, her hands on her hips.

"A bloke gets hungry sometimes, Hermione," Ron said, defending himself, "It's not like I'm hurting anybody by nicking a bit of food."

"No, but you _are_ breaking the rules; and as a prefect –" Hermione's rant was cut off by the sound of chuckling coming from the bed. She began blushing and quickly dropped her confrontational posture.

Ron, too, was blushing as he turned to face Hermione's parents. Mr. Granger was the one chuckling and had a highly amused glint in his brown eyes. Mrs. Granger, too, seemed amused, but she had the good grace to simply smile at the two of them.

"Err…I should probably leave you to your unpacking," Ron said, looking embarrassedly down at his shoes as he quickly made for the door, "If you need any help with anything, let me know."

Ron exited the room as fast as he could, and hurried down the hall to his own bedroom. Along the way, he noticed for the first time that the second floor was apparently empty except for himself and the Grangers. Sirius, Lupin, Tonks and Charlie were all gone.

"The Order meeting must've started," he muttered to himself as he reached his bedroom door before bitterly adding, "Nice of them to _include me_."

Ron peered into his bedroom where Crookshanks was curled up comfortably in the middle of his bed. He then looked towards the stairs, at the bottom of which, in the dining room, the Order were having their meeting. He wanted to know what they were discussing in that meeting; he _deserved_ to know what they were discussing.

He looked up. Somewhere up on the third floor was Fred and George's room. If anybody could help him find out what was happening in the meeting, it was those two…and he knew just how they could help.

Ron rushed up the stairs and after several tries found the bedroom the twins were sharing. They were huddled over something that Ron couldn't quite see as their bodies were blocking it from view, but judging by the disgruntled looks on their faces when he barged into their room, they were most likely up to no good.

"Oi! Don't you knock?" Fred shouted.

"We're in the middle of something important here," George replied just as testily.

"Sorry 'bout that," Ron replied, "But I need a favor."

The twins looked at each other for a split second, and then Fred waved his wand at the bedroom door, slamming it shut and locking it.

"What do you need?" Fred and George asked in unison.

"There's an Order meeting going on downstairs and I want to borrow an Extendable Ear," Ron said quickly, wanting to get downstairs to listen in on the meeting as soon as possible.

The twins exchanged another look, before turning back to Ron, looks of confusion written across their faces.

"How'd you know about the Extendable Ear?" Fred asked.

"We've kept it a secret from _everybody_," George added.

"We used them all summer," Ron explained, "Listening in on Order meetings…at least, we did _over there_." Ron motioned with his head, indicating the world he'd been _Borrowed_ from, "It's one of your best ideas yet."

Ron's compliment seemed to do the trick, and the twins grinned broadly at him before jumping to their feet and scurrying about the room. Fred moved over to his school trunk and unlocked it, delving into its depths, while George draped a sheet over top of whatever it was they were working on when Ron first entered the room. Moments later, Fred returned with a flesh-colored length of string in his hand.

"This is our prototype for the Extendable Ear," Fred said, handing it gingerly to Ron, "Be careful with it."

"Bloody thing's expensive to produce," George added, "So we've only made the one."

"Only one?" Ron replied, shocked, "But I thought you blokes would've made _dozens_ of them."

"Like George said," Fred answered with a sigh, "They're expensive to make. Once our owl-order business really takes off, we'll have the money to make more…and with any luck they'll be a big seller."

"But you're _rolling_ in galleons," Ron exclaimed, "You're only doing the owl-order business until you're finished school and can buy premises of your own."

Fred and George exchanged yet another look, this time frowning at each other before turning back to face Ron.

"Afraid not, Ron," Fred said, shaking his head, "We used every bit of our life-savings to produce the small bit of inventory we've been selling at school and through owl-order."

"And the money we've made," George continued, "Has gone towards restocking that inventory so we can continue to sell it."

"We've made _some_ profit," Fred admitted, "Enough to invent some new items, like the Extendable Ear…"

"But nowhere _near_ enough to open up our own shop," George continued sadly.

"If _your_ twins are rolling in it, like you said," Fred said sounding disheartened, "Then they had a stroke of luck that we never did."

Ron frowned, trying to imagine just what stroke of luck _his_ brothers might have had that _these_ two didn't. An uncomfortable silence fell over the room, and Ron hated having to be the one to break it, but he really did need to get a move on.

"I'll be careful with the Extendable; and I promise to bring it back as soon as I'm done with it."

"Be sure and tell us what the meeting's about," Fred said, looking hopeful, "Since they won't let us join the Order until we're finished school."

"We'd come down and listen with you," George said, casting a look over his shoulder at the sheet covering whatever the twins were working on when Ron entered, "But we're a little busy."

Ron nodded, looking at the sheet and wondering just what the two mischief-makers could be up to at the moment.

"Try not to blow up the room," Ron quipped as he turned to leave.

"No promises," Fred and George chorused in unison. Fred waved his wand at the door and it unlocked, allowing Ron to leave.

Once out in the hall, Ron raced down the steps eager to find out what the Order were discussing. He slowed as he neared the ground floor, not wanting his thunderous footsteps on the old stairs or Mrs. Black's portrait screeching at the top of her lungs to alert the Order to his presence.

Moving quietly along the ground floor hallway, he stopped outside the closed door to the dining room. Crouching down, he slipped one end of the flesh-colored string under the door and placed the other end up to his ear; it was just lucky that no one had thought to _Imperturb_ the door before the meeting began.

"…Nothing to report, because I have yet to be granted an audience with the Dark Lord," the voice was unmistakably that of Severus Snape, and Ron frowned deeply at the very idea of the former Death Eater being a member of the Order of the Phoenix, "It would seem that Lucius Malfoy currently has the Dark Lord's favor; all of my requests to meet with the Dark Lord since his return have been intercepted by Lucius and promptly rejected."

"What good is having a Death Eater serve as a spy if he can't even get in to see his _master_?" the angry voice of Sirius snapped, "I always knew you were useless, Snivellus, but thanks ever so much for proving me right!"

"Sirius, that will do!" the commanding voice of Dumbledore spoke up, "We are all on the same side here, so I expect you to behave like it…_all_ of you." Dumbledore waited until the room was silent once more before continuing, "What news of the Azkaban break-out, Kingsley?"

"Fudge is continuing to keep it quiet," the booming voice of Kingsley Shacklebolt replied, "He won't allow any communication between Azkaban and the mainland, which is why it took me so long to inform you of the break-out in the first place."

"I understand, Kingsley," Dumbledore said, "Please, go on."

"Currently, Fudge is looking for someone to blame," Kingsley continued, "He plans to pin the whole thing on Peter Pettigrew because of his former Death Eater connection. The Minister is saying Pettigrew orchestrated the whole thing from his cell inside Azkaban."

"That doesn't sound like Peter," Lupin could be heard saying.

"No," Sirius agreed, "Wormtail always was a little slow."

"He's slower now," Kingsley replied grimly, "They found him in his cell after the break-out. He'd been kissed."

Gasps and shocked murmurs momentarily filled the room as Ron listened in on the final fate of Peter Pettigrew.

"Good riddance," Sirius said, with no hint of compassion or sympathy in his voice.

Kingsley went on once the room settled down. "The story Fudge plans to release…eventually…says that Pettigrew planned the break-out but was kissed when the Dementors tried to stop the prisoners from escaping. That's also how Fudge plans to explain the absence of Dementors at Azkaban now…says they're out trying to capture the escapees."

"That's ridiculous!" exclaimed a voice that sounded like Charlie's, "Fudge can't really think people will believe that."

"When I escaped, hundreds of Dementors were sent to look for me," Sirius reminded them, "It's not as far-fetched a scenario as you think."

"The worst part of it is that I think the Minister wants to believe it's true," Kingsley added, "I think the idea that the Ministry has lost control of the Dementors is too frightening for Fudge to even consider."

"What about when innocent people start losing their souls?" Charlie asked angrily, "Will he consider it then?"

"I'm afraid Cornelius' love of the power his position provides will blind him to the truth until it is too late," Dumbledore said resignedly, "I believe the Minister would need to see Voldemort with his own two eyes before he'd be willing to consider the possibility that he has returned."

"Since not even Severus has been able to see Voldemort," Lupin replied gravely, "I doubt he'll be accommodating enough to show himself to the Minister."

"If no one's seen him, are we even sure You-Know-Who is really back?" Tonks asked.

"There is a Muggle proverb," Dumbledore responded softly, "That says, 'the Devil's greatest trick was convincing the world he did not exist.' Voldemort may not subscribe to Muggle philosophy, but in this case, I fully believe that he has taken a cue from the Devil himself."

Ron could hear the mutterings of assent in the room as most of the Order members present sounded as though they agreed with their leader.

"An army is being gathered," Dumbledore said determinedly, "Hagrid has confirmed that the giants have already been recruited; and now the Dementors have joined as well. Voldemort will continue to bring dark creatures to his side; therefore, we must send delegations to the werewolves, the vampires, and other sentient beings who sided with Voldemort in the past. We must reach out to them before the Dark Lord does."

There was more muttering in the room from the members of the Order, and Dumbledore waited for them to stop before he continued talking.

"We must remain vigilant," Dumbledore said, almost reminding Ron of Mad-Eye Moody for a moment, "Voldemort will not reveal himself until the time is right; by then it may be too late for us to stop him."

Ron could hear chairs scraping across the floor in the dining room, signifying the end of the meeting. He quickly reeled in the Extendable Ear from under the door, stood up and ran up the steps back to the second floor.

He recounted the things he had overheard in the meeting. You-Know-Who was keeping a low profile, so no one truly knew if he was back or not. That wasn't surprising, since that's what he was doing back on Ron's world, too.

You-Know-Who was gathering an army. Again, not a surprise; He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was doing the same thing on both worlds. The thought of that, though, an army of dark creatures – giants, werewolves, vampires, Dementors – it sent a cold shiver down Ron's spine. He wouldn't fancy meeting any of them in a fight.

Ron had learned something he didn't know before: Hagrid had been sent to parley with the giants…and he'd been unsuccessful; that certainly explained the condition of Hagrid's face when he encountered him in his cabin several weeks ago. Even if it didn't explain why he could swear he saw a giant and a dragon in the Forbidden Forest the day he escaped from the Chamber of Secrets.

The other bit of news he'd learned had a bit more personal impact. Peter Pettigrew had been kissed by a Dementor and was now a soulless husk. Ron couldn't help agreeing a little bit with Sirius' sentiment about Pettigrew's fate – good riddance. He didn't know if he'd ever get over the feeling of betrayal and sense of violation he felt when it was revealed that his beloved pet rat was really a full-grown man in his thirties; worse still was the fact that he was the man responsible for the death of his best friend's parents.

Ron continued to ponder what he'd overheard at the meeting as he moved down the second floor hallway into his bedroom. His thoughts of his former pet rat and the negative emotions he now associated with "Scabbers" vanished from his head as he entered his room and found Hermione lying on his bed petting a purring Crookshanks.

"Huh-uh-hi," Ron said nervously, having expected to find his room devoid of anyone except the sleeping ginger cat.

Hermione flashed a slight smile his way. "Can we talk now?"

* * *

**Author's End Notes****:** There you have it: Chapter 27. As I said, I wasn't happy with it. With any luck, I'll have more time to put into the next chapter so I won't have to feel like I'm posting something subpar for my faithful readers to enjoy.


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